


Just Another Goddamned Ghost Story

by AshesTheTerrible



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Artificial Intelligence, Blood, Consensual Sex, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explosions, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, Ghosts, Gore, Guns, Hauntings, Hurt/Comfort, Limb removal, Love, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Multi, Rough Sex, Smut, Taunting, Threesome - M/M/M, Torture, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, bandits, hologram, relationships, skag riding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-03-29 13:24:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 75,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3897952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesTheTerrible/pseuds/AshesTheTerrible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody ever said dealing with ghosts would be easy. Especially when you are dealing with the ghost of a murderous, bloodthirsty, Ex-Hyperion CEO. Everybody has a ghost story to tell, some are just a little more far-fetched than others. Possession, hauntings and things that go bump in the night have never looked quite so good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Every Ghost Story Begins Like This Right?

**Author's Note:**

> Well this is my maiden voyage into a story with multiple relationships. This story originally started as a shameless smut fic when I first outlined it and now it has evolved into a very emotional roller coaster ride of a story consisting of how I think things would go if Handsome Jack was able to take over Rhys' body at random. It really turns into a Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde nightmare for poor Rhys. With his friends in danger due to Jack's unpredictable nature Rhys decided death is the only option to get rid of his terrifying parasite. Rhys is saved by Timothy, the doppleganger who has managed to survive and prosper through the hardships of living on Pandora. As it turns out, the man that looks like Jack, is just the savior Rhys had needed.  
> This story includes a lot of blood, gore, smut, and all that good stuff! As things happen in the chapters I will be updating the tags just to make sure people know what the story involves since some of the content could be triggers for some. I want to keep this friendly for all and I truly hope you all enjoy this story!! :D Welcome to the ride, strap on in, grab some popcorn...things are gunna get messy ;)

Just Another Goddamned Ghost Story

The silence of the room was just about to the point of unbearable. It was deep, unsettling silence. The kind that creeps down your spine and settles deep in your bones. The kind of silence that is heavy, and thick, so much so that when you breathe, the shit sticks to your lungs and gums up your insides.

The amber haired male laid in the silence, his thin back pressed into the old, sorry excuse for a mattress, his eyes fixated on the blank ceiling that honestly looked like it could cave at any moment. The air smelled gravely of dust, earth and dried blood, intermixed with the lingering smell of death. No doubt something had curled up in here and died at some point in time, and the smell had simply clung to the walls, soaked in nice and profound. The young male’s ears perked at the sounds of deep sleep coming from the other body occupying the room. Rhys’ ill assorted eyes flicked to the opposite side of the cramped mattress. The slender accountant was curled up into the fetal position on the other side of the bed, his body curled in on himself, fists clenched into tight little balls. His glasses were folded on the unsteady bedside table and most his clothing had been piled near the bed on the floor. It was far too hot to sleep any way else. Both boys had just declared ‘no homo’ and had stripped down to their boxers before bunking down. It was the only sensible thing to do in such a situation. They had trudged through the endless sands of Pandora all day long, the merciless heat taking little pity on them, only to find, much to their dismay, that the night brought very little reprieve from the scorching temperatures. It was still just as hot, just as humid, and just as fucking torturous. Rhys shifted a little, his Hyperion yellow boxer briefs riding up uncomfortably, hugging all the places that felt the most drenched in sweat. The young male tugged the material down irritably, trying to move as little as possible so as not to wake his sleeping counterpart.

He could just barely detect the faint, haunting wails of far off Rakk, circling the lonely, pitch black skies. As long as they weren’t anywhere near him, he didn’t much care what they did, he just didn’t want anything to do with them. Frankly he didn’t really want anything to do with this retched planet anymore. What had started as a great plan to get revenge on Vasquez and regain the rank he had rightfully earned had quickly deteriorated into the most hellish experience of his life. He should have taken the damned janitor position, hell at this point he almost wished he’d just let Vasquez shoot him out of an airlock. Even suffocating to death out in space would have been better than this. Rhys sighed lowly to himself and settled his interlaced fingers on the flat of his chest, the anatomy rising and falling slowly with the intake of air.

Quite honestly he had no idea how this situation could possibly get any worse, yet he was sure it would. He was positive things couldn’t get worse when Vasquez fucked him over, then their great plan to steal the vault key went haywire. Then when he assumed things were done getting ridiculously horrible, he’d found himself stuck with two moody, shady, con artists. He had some prick with nice hair that went by the name of August hot on his heels and Vasquez following suit. The money had been blown to pieces and they’d been separated from their con artist acquaintances Sasha and Fiona. So here they were, stranded, hopelessly lost, dehydrated and exhausted. It was a miracle in itself that they had even found this pathetic little shack to retreat within for the night.

Rhys scratched an uncomfortable itch on his abdomen and breathed in deep. How the fuck did he even manage to get himself into this mess? His eyes flicked to his best friend. What was worse than just getting himself into this, he’d also dragged Vaughn down too. Neither of them was cut out for roughing it in the wild. They were Hyperion employees, accustomed to office chairs and air conditioning. About the most physical they got was jogging from one end of Helios to the other on an errand their boss sent them on. Stapling papers together was the most excitement they normally had in a day. They weren’t made for gunfights and hand to hand combat with things ten times their size and forty times more mean. They were soft compared to Pandora’s inhabitants. Soft as newborn calves, served up and ready for slaughter. The slimmer man shifted in his sleep and mumbled something indecipherable under his breath. Rhys was a little jealous of how quickly the other man had drifted off to sleep, where as Rhys was left to simply stare at the ceiling above him and hope in vain for even the slightest hint of slumber.

But how could he sleep? How could he possibly even hope to sleep…he hadn’t slept in days. Try as he might he just…couldn’t. His body was far past the point of exhaustion, every muscle he possessed left unimaginably sore, even muscles he never knew existed. Every bone in his body ached and he had far too many bruises, bumps, cuts, gashes and rashes to count anymore. His eyes were red and irritated from sand being blown into them, plus he was pretty sure the entire soles of his feet were just two giant blisters by now. Wearing his skag skin boots on this little adventure was not his wisest decision to date. The expensive footwear was definitely not made for strenuous hikes through the damned desert. Rhys rubbed his ankles together, the thin material of his socks sliding against one another, easing some of the pain in his feet away.

The only thing the young male wanted to do was sleep. He needed it so god damned badly, and yet night after night it eluded him. His brain simply refused to shut down and simply sleep. Not by choice…no not by choice. It wasn’t his choice anymore.

Rhys cringed at the though and frantically looked around the room expectantly, fearfully. No thought was safe anymore, no single string of thought process belonged solely to him anymore. Every thought, every dream, and every intake of information…it was shared…with _him…._ with _Handsome Jack._

Rhys’ eyes shifted around the room, searching every corner and crevice in the cramped space fully expecting his unwanted guest to flicker into sight at any second…but he didn’t.

The room remained occupied by only Vaughn, and himself. Rhys groaned outwardly in relief. Of all the absolutely awful things that had taken place over the past few days of this little adventure gone to shit, the worst by far was Rhys’ unfortunate _situation._

He should have really thought about the consequences before shoving that flash drive into his echo port. Nakayama was a nutcase but Rhys had never dreamed what the weird little scientist could have been hiding in that little information card. Rhys wasn’t even sure _what_ it was…the thing that was now hovering around in his brain. A hologram, some sort of program, a ghost perhaps? That was beside the point though in all actuality. Whatever it was, it was now attached to Rhys, invading him like some sort of parasite, hearing his every thought, seeing his every movement, lingering around him like some poltergeist only he could see. Sometimes he would appear to Rhys in full body hologram, flickering blue, jittering into existence unpredictably, other times he was just a whisper in the younger man’s ear, poisonous voice tickling across his senses. Just the thought alone made all the hairs on the back of Rhys’ neck stand on end. Whatever it the thing was, it sure as shit sounded, acted, and looked like the deceased Hyperion President. His laugh was identical, the way he taunted and threatened, they way he could inflict fear upon Rhys’ soul; it was all too perfectly similar to the ex-CEO. So whatever it was, Jack reincarnated, or ghost raised from the dead, Rhys just wanted him out. Bodies were not meant to be shared that was for damned sure. Rhys could barely manage his own thoughts on most days, much less the added commentaries and input of the mass murdering, psychopathic Hyperion king. The days were getting longer, and the nights were even more so. Jack had found his way into Rhys’ dream patterns, and had taken to them like a child just discovering the wonders of lighting things on fire. He played with Rhys’ dreams like an ant farm, finding great joy in roasting the little creatures with a magnifying glass, burning them alive, laughing all the while.

Sometimes he would allow Rhys to drift off to sleep, just long enough for the dreams to come. Sometimes he would let them form, good at first, something sweet like having lunch with Yvette and Vaughn, or enjoying a quiet evening in his little apartment back on Helios. He would let Rhys get comfortable, let him believe in the dream, just to the point where it felt undeniably real, and then Jack would begin sticking his fingers in the pot. Slowly he would begin twisting the good dreams into something horrid, nightmares…utterly terrifying, awful nightmares. Sometimes they involved his friends being torn limb from limb by Skags, teeth bared, tongues lolling, blood oozing off their bottom jaws as they ate them. Sick slopping noises and the cracking of feeble bones filling Rhys’ skull. Other times they consisted of Rhys being shot, brought back to life, and then shot again, point blank with a shotgun barrel shoved to his skull. The dreams would feel horribly real, like he could simply reach out and touch them, feel them, hear them. To him…they were real, Jack being able to hack into places within his brain even he himself could not. Jack could make him feel the pain of the dreams; make him experience it like he never knew possible.

Rhys swallowed hard at the thought. He didn’t want to feel that again, the chilling, hollow feeling of death. He wasn’t sure that was what dying really felt like…but it was unpleasant all the same. It was awful just the same.

Sometimes the young male would wake up crying, sobbing softly into the surface of his bedding, other times he would wake up screaming, his voice coming out frantic and shrill.

The first time was the worst. It had come as such a shock that very first night Jack had figured out how to toy with his dream state. The dream was horrid, something about being buried alive if he could remember correctly…he had really tried to block it all out, but the memory seemed to insist on sticking around. He’d been shoved into the perfect sized hole in the ground by a heavy boot, staring upward at the sky with shaky, fearful eyes as dirt began to come pouring in. He was screaming for it to stop, that he was alive, that they couldn’t do this to him. He’d then began begging, begging the unknown for mercy, begging for them to have pity. But they didn’t, and the soil kept coming, cool and hard and dry as it filled the space around him, covering his eyes, his ears, eventually his mouth and nose. Then he couldn’t breathe, the dirt was the only thing being sucked into his lungs. His cheeks were wet with tears, stinging his eyes along with the gritty earth. It had felt so real, so horridly real.

He’d sat straight up in bed screaming, waking Vaughn who’d been sleeping just feet from him. Vaughn had been there for him, just like always. Vaughn had believed Rhys when he’d passed the screaming fit off as if it was just a bad dream, and nothing to worry about.

Rhys looked over at the back of Vaughn’s unmoving head sadly. He just couldn’t find it in him to tell the other man what was really going on. Hell would he even believe him if he did? How would he even begin to explain it all? He’d accidentally implanted some sort of Artificial Intelligence with the resemblance to Handsome Jack into his brain and now the Hyperion CEO was rattling around within him? If that didn’t sound absolutely bat shit crazy he didn’t know what did. Vaughn was his best friend, and they had been through hell and high water together, but he just couldn’t will himself to bring the subject up to the other man. So he’d just spent the past few days making up excuse after excuse for his out of the normal actions, lie upon lie upon lie. When Jack would appear out of nowhere, causing Rhys to jump and swear, he would lie. When Jack would purposely jut his finger into Rhys’ echo port, causing Rhys to scream in pain, he would lie. He was becoming a damned near pro at lying to his comrade, though he could tell Vaughn was slowly becoming suspicious of his counterpart’s actions. He could sense Vaughn was really starting to wonder, really starting to think Rhys was teetering on the fence of insanity. In all reality he was.

Between the constant exposure to the heat and Jack berating his thoughts his brain was left a soupy mess. The days had certainly not been kind to him. Rhys rolled onto his side warily, tucking his arms in on himself and curling his knees slightly, still waiting for Jack to make his entrance at any second. At one time, the young man had worshipped Handsome Jack, hell he had wanted to _be_ the man. Everybody at Hyperion did. Rhys had spent many hours solving problems by asking himself, ‘what would Handsome Jack do?’ How would he handle this? He’d even decorated his little office in what he labeled as motivational posters of the Hyperion CEO. He had looked up to Handsome Jack in every way….but that didn’t make sharing a body with him any easier. He’d certainly never asked for that. Sharing a brain, a body, _everything_ with Jack was a tiresome performance that was very quickly wearing him thin.

Rhys breathed out slowly and let his eyes fall nearly closed, sleep threatening to take him at any second. He couldn’t fight it anymore; he wanted it so badly, needed it so badly, to just sleep, to just dream peaceful dreams, to wake up rested and rejuvenated. His eyelids met softly, eyes hidden behind them as he melted into the mattress.

Rhys was at the very door of slumber when there was a crackle of a whisper in his ear. He did his best to ignore the soft sound and only fell closer to the arms of much needed sleep. The crackle got louder with his ignoring it, the hum becoming more demanding, more insistent. The static crackle morphed from a steady tone into something more, something more human, a laugh now, a soft, maniacal chuckle that was gaining in intensity.

Rhys’ eyes cracked open just barely, just in time to catch a flicker of movement across the room. His eyes closed once more, so tired he couldn’t find it in himself to worry about what he’d seen. Maybe he was seeing things; he hoped he was seeing things. Maybe he was already dreaming.

Suddenly there was a sharp clap of hands just next to his ear, the jolting crack of two palms coming together bringing Rhys right up off the mattress with a small yelp. The young male scrambled into a sitting position and searched the room with eyes the size of dinner plates. His frantic eyes collided with hollow shimmering orbs just feet from him and he slapped his hand over his mouth to stifle a yell.

A thin wicked smile followed closely behind playful eyes and thick, hearty, laughter.

Rhys rolled his eyes and huffed out loudly, collecting himself after nearly being given a fucking heart attack.

“I wish you would fucking stop that.” Rhys snarled softly, trying to keep his voice low enough not alert Vaughn.

The hologram sauntered toward him nonchalantly, crossing its arms over its broad chest and cocked its head to the side in a scrutinizing manner. God even the way he walked was just like the Hyperion President…carrying himself with that lazy swagger full of pride and grace. Rhys swallowed dryly as the other man, ghost, thing, approached him leaning in toward the younger male closing the space between them dauntingly. That was something Rhys had quickly learned about his poltergeist, the fucker had no sense of personal space, or boundaries. He much rather enjoyed being way too up close and personal at all times. That was only one of the many intimidating habits the other man possessed.

“Oh so you’re actually talking to me now cupcake?” Jack cooed tauntingly, the words rolling off his tongue like honey and velvet.

Fuck that voice of his. That smooth, diabolical voice that had Rhys caught between wanting to curl up in fear, and wanting to take all his clothes off. That voice of his did unholy things to people, and Rhys was no exception.

Rhys shivered involuntarily as Jack’s words washed over him like ice water.

Most of the day had consisted of a continuous game of wits between the Hyperion President and Rhys, the younger male doing his best to ignore Jack’s taunts and threats. Rhys was trying his hardest to not look completely insane in front of his best friend, and talking to himself would certainly not help his case, so he had taken to trying to completely ignore Jack’s commentary for the day. Jack was not too fond of the whole ‘being ignored’ thing just as Rhys had expected. It had been a long, long day that was for certain. Finally after many attempts to get Rhys to quit ignoring him, Jack had fallen silent, flickering away into some unknown place. Rhys had been profoundly concerned at the hologram’s absence, confronted with the very real possibility that Jack had disappeared just to contemplate some sort of revenge act on him later. Even with that fact looming over him, the rest of the day’s trek had been considerably easier without Jack’s voice buzzing in his temples like an angry hive of wasps.

Jack’s laughter dissolved down into a thin smile as he traced a holographic finger down the line of Rhys’ jaw, causing the amber haired man to flinch away out of instinct.

“Soooo didya miss me kiddo?” Jack swooned chuckling lightly at Rhys’ reaction to his touch.

Jack’s fingers felt like ice every time they so much as brushed the young man, like cold static that caused chills to run through his veins. It was an unpleasant feeling really, cold and bitter every time a finger so much as kissed against his flesh. It was worse when Jack touched his robotic appendage, then it was not just a cold itch, it was a twisting shock to his nerves, a small ache that sent electricity through the area where his true flesh and his robotics met, right at the joint of his shoulder. But worst of all was when Jack got the random urge to jam one of his fingers into Rhys’ echo port. That wasn’t just a shock, or a jolt, or a little static vibration along his skin…that, was pure, utter, white hot, stinging pain. Pain like he’d never experienced before. A pain that flooded through his skull and raced down the length of his spine causing tears to prick at the corners of his eyes.

Rhys internally shuddered at the thought and in unison Jack’s eyes flickered with interest.

“No.” Rhys finally answered Jack’s question pointedly.

Jack snorted loudly and grinned toothily at the feeble man.

“Now I _know_ that isn’t true. I can read your thoughts kiddo, remember? Really you are pretty fucking slow with catching onto that aren’t you?” Jack hissed his voice crackling with static for a moment before recollecting to its usual tone.

Rhys cringed slightly and groaned out lowly.

“So I really didn’t appreciate being ignored all day. I mean really kiddo who the fuck do you think you are? You don’t just _ignore_ Handsome Jack. On any other given day, I’d have torn your esophagus out with my bare hands for pulling that kind of crap on me.” Jack hissed suddenly, his voice lulling into a dark, fearsome tone.

"But I mean, it was kinda cute watching you _try_   to be tough and hold your ground with the whole thing. If it hadn't been slightly amusing, I would have choked you with your own hand hours ago." Jack sneered viciously.

Rhys flinched at Jack’s words gritting his teeth together hard, a small whimper threatening against his lips.

“If I just start talking to you out of the blue Vaughn is really going to think I have gone off the deep end. You insisted I keep you a secret, how am I supposed to do that if I am having full on conversations with _myself!?_ ” Rhys hissed lowly his eyes narrowing at the flickering hologram just inches from his face.

Jack clicked his tongue at the younger man and rolled his eyes over dramatically.

“Oh whine, whine, whine, is that all you know how to do kitten?” Jack taunted like a five year old, tilting his head along with the words.

Rhys jutted his lower lip out in an annoyed fashion and adverted his eyes from Jack’s irritably.

“Can’t you just…go away...?” Rhys groaned tiredly his eyes sore and ruined with heavy bags clinging to the undersides of his sockets.

“Watch yourself kiddo. Don’t get that fucking tone with me.” Jack scolded pointedly, hovering his fingers barely above Rhys’ echo port, just close enough for Rhys to feel the beginning soreness of static formed there.

Rhys cringed away and closed his eyes miserably.

“No! D-Don’t do that, I’m sorry…just don’t…please don’t.” Rhys shuddered quietly, trying with all his might to keep his voice to a minimum.

The corner of Jack’s lip curled up into an amused snarl, enjoying the feeble way Rhys shied away from him.

“Mmm, y’know kiddo, you really are quite the pathetic beggar. We are gunna have to work on that. Let’s try again, I know you can do better than that.” Jack husked wiggling his fingers closer, the ache just starting to settle into Rhys’ temple.

Rhys squirmed slightly, but with Vaughn at his back and Jack at his front he had nowhere to go.

“Please Jack, please don’t it _hurts_ it hurts so much please don’t I can’t handle another episode!” Rhys near sobbed his voice strained with panic as the hologram’s fingers hovered ever closer.

A low chortle crept up from the depths of Jack’s throat and he slowly retracted his wandering fingers.

“There now, that was better. Still could use some polishing…but eh you’ll get there cupcake.” Jack praised halfheartedly leaning away from Rhys’ body.

Jack’s scrutinizing eyes then observed the scene before him, gaze flicking from the Rhys to Vaughn, then back to Rhys, a look of disgust washing over his face.

“So…uh, do I even want to know what’s going on here? We having a little half naked slumber party or something? I mean really Rhys, a man likes what a man likes but uh…you could do so much better than the math nerd, kiddo.” Jack taunted his lip snarling up in obvious distaste.

Rhys felt thick blush form across his cheekbones and he threw a displeased glance at the ex-Hyperion CEO.

“It isn’t like that. For fucks sake its a hundred and twenty degrees on this planet, it’s either this or simmer to death in my sleep.” Rhys argued his voice coming out as a low hiss.

Rhys contemplated the comment for a second, and then decided to add to it.

“That is if I could _get_ any sleep.” Rhys tacked on the comment exasperatedly.

Jack raised a thin eyebrow at the half cybernetic man and grinned lopsidedly.

“I have no idea what you are talking about pumpkin.” Jack cooed settling down on the foot of the bed casually, the mattress bearing no weight as the phantom eased onto it.

Jack’s eyes swam over Rhys’ features snidely. He loved toying with the younger man, loved seeing just how far he could pull his strings, loved seeing just what buttons Rhys didn’t really want pressed.

Rhys buried his bottom lip between his teeth his eyes sharp and angry as they met with Jack’s.

“I haven’t slept in three days, since you figured out how to rewire my dreams.” Rhys spat distastefully his voice struggling to keep below yelling volume.

Jack leaned back and swiveled his hand in the air as if waving the accusation away.

“Oh Rhysie, Rhysie, Rhysie, I was only trying to figure out what makes you…tick! Wasn’t on purpose I swear.” Jack snickered darkly.

“My ass it wasn’t on purpose!! You’ve made me suffer through the worst night terrors of my entire life don’t act like you had nothing to do with it! I know it was you in there poking your fingers where they shouldn’t be!” Rhys snapped shortly.

Jack raised his hands up in surrender like fashion.

“Oh you caught me cupcake. You are just too damned smart for ol’ Handsome Jack.” Jack teased meanly chuckling under his breath.

“The longer I go without sleep, the more vulnerable it makes me, and that just raises my chances of getting picked off by some skag, or rakks, or some other variety of giant blood thirsty monster that exists on this god forsaken planet!” Rhys snarled lowly.

“And if I get picked off, you go too.” Rhys finished shortly.

Jack furrowed his eyebrows together tightly in annoyance, half because he really didn’t appreciate the kid’s back talk, and half because he knew he was right.

He was stuck with this snot nosed kid whether he liked it or not, and if the idiot got himself killed, Jack went down with him. Jack groaned and ran a hand through his coiffed locks irritably.

“Fine kiddo. Fine. You want sleep? I’ll give you sleep.” Jack snarled suddenly flickering out of sight and reappearing directly in front of Rhys, body half in Rhys’ chest cavity.

Rhys yelped as the cold static flooded him and before he could possibly have a hope to protest, Jack’s fingers had lodged into his port, sending scorching shock waves through every last nerve in his body. Rhys didn’t even have time to scream, before he could make another motion Jack’s intrusion pressed against something deep within the young man’s brain and he was out cold. His eyes rolled back into his skull and his head thudded against the old pillow limply, body falling into some forced type of slumber.


	2. A Ghost's Good Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because who doesn't love boot worship and nerd fucking? ;)

A Ghost’s Good Touch

 

Rhys’ eyes snapped open, wide brown and blue searching over his surroundings frantically. He could feel his heart thrumming in his chest, thundering against his ribs so hard it was beginning to hurt. His pulse pounded in his ears hard, throbbing against the anatomy harshly. He brought his mechanical hand to his chest, the familiar cold fingers touching obviously bare skin. Rhys’ eyes flicked downward at the shock of metal to his skin and sucked in a sharp breath. He didn’t possess a single shred of clothing to keep himself decent. His eyes traveled down his sun starved body curiously, not nearly as shocked with his apparent nudity as he normally should have been. He just couldn’t find it in his deepest depths to worry about it much. His heavy false arm traced along the dip of his chest, settling over his slowly steadying heartbeat. His racing organ gently began to find a far less frantic, lazy pace, and easing into something of utter bliss. The feeling washed over Rhys’ body like a heavy blanket, warm and welcoming as it settled over his form. Rhys’ fleshed hand twitched over the surface he laid upon, voyaging fingers finding softness beneath them. His palm opened and closed on top of the pleasingly velvet like material, a content hum passed over his thin lips, vibrating from the depths of his throat lazily.

The thin male sucked in a long, heavy breath, lungs expanding to their fullest capacity before expelling the air in a satisfied motion. His eyes closed, but only for a moment, savoring the darkness behind his lids pleasantly. Everything around him seemed wonderfully silent, an easy, and comforting sound; it was like sleeping…only he was wide awake. He had never felt so utterly calm, nothing in the world left to worry him or buzz around in his empty thoughts. His eyes parted open, earth and sky colored orbs settling on the nothingness above him. He allowed his robotic arm to fall off his chest and slide to the flooring, mirroring his human hand. Sometimes he really wished he could feel with the mechanical limb, sometimes his body yearned for the feeling that had been so long ago lost. But as his metal fingers curled around the soft material below him, Rhys could swear…he could feel it. The heavy fingers fisted around the soft flooring beneath him, he pivoted his head to the side to look at the scene slowly. He was laid on a plush carpet of some sort, vibrantly gold in color, thickly woven into a glorious stretch of soft fibers. He was pretty sure he was completely content with simply laying right here, forever, never moving from the spot he was glued to, simply existing here for the rest of his days.

“Well hello there kitten.” Came a smooth voice from the other side of the room.

Rhys perked and slowly leaned up on his sharp elbows, hefting his heavy body up off the golden carpeting. His lazy eyes settled on the scene splayed out before him with intrigue and curiosity. The carpet gave way to a large golden couch, plush cushions billowing up over its form, the leather looking material shimmering in the dull lighting the scene provided. Rhys blinked once, twice, three times as his gaze now clung to by far the most interesting aspect of the room.

The older male was lounged languidly across the massive couch, arms draped along the back of the large piece of furniture, one heavy boot propped up on his knee. He sat like a king would, perched upon his throne, back flush and straight against the cushions, head ever so gently cocked to the side as he observed the other male on the floor, thick fingers interlaced and propped on the fold of his knee.

Rhys should have been afraid, he should have been terrified as those ever so familiar eyes swam over his form, taking in his every dip, his every curve, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to be. He just felt so heavy, so drunk on an unknown pleasure that there was no room for fear, even as he sat before the most dangerous man that had ever existed.

Rhys exhaled a slow, wavering breath and leaned forward even more, shifting his ankles slightly, as if testing them to make sure they were in working order.

“Jack?” Rhys questioned his voice coming forth slow and confused.

Jack’s placid face then contorted into a soft look of amusement, lip gently pulling up into a smile, playful eyes narrowing into pretty little slits.

“In the flesh.” Jack answered gesturing to himself with a slow, large palm.

Rhys just stared at the Hyperion king, eyes wanton and slow, lips parted open in a small oval. Jack was adorned in just slightly more clothing than Rhys was, the man’s broad shoulders draped in the silken material of a pure, golden, robe. The front hung open loosely, keeping nothing about the other male modest to say the least.

Rhys felt white hot flush paint over the rounds of his cheeks and his eyes flicked to the floor submissively. Jack seemed to notice the small expression from the younger man and chuckled low in his throat.

“Rhysie, Rhysie, Rhysie…none of that now. You take a good long look cupcake.” Jack husked suddenly his voice dripping with enthuse as he smirked at the other male.

Rhys wasn’t sure why he obeyed, maybe because nobody in their right mind disobeys a direct order from Handsome Jack perhaps? Or perhaps because he really did want to look. He wanted to see it all; he wanted to soak it all in, the godlike man eased so shamelessly before him. He was so proud in his demeanor, every movement, every breath, every hint of a smile that passed his thin lips, it was dangerous and powerful….so fucking powerful. Power like Rhys had never experienced before. Power he’d never even come close to tasting. Jack was the definition of power, and Rhys was now faced with it all, staring eye to eye with a man that could build him up, or break him down in a matter of mere seconds. Jack gently drummed his fingers along the hard of his propped up shin, a thin eyebrow rising slowly as he cocked his head in Rhys’ direction. Suddenly Jack unfolded his legs, settling each heavy boot on the floor beneath it with a pair of loud thuds that caused Rhys to startle slightly. Jack sat spread wide and arrogant, that poisonous smile of his only gaining in intensity as he watched Rhys’ face morph from a shade of pink to a hue of deep red.

Rhys tried to settle his gaze on the boots Jack wore, heavy looking, and expensive leather beasts, strapped around his mid calves. The things had too many buckles and too many zippers; they seemed like far too much work to ever even think about putting them on. Rhys soaked in their deep russet coloration, accented with patches of gold that matched his minimal wardrobe choice perfectly. Jack tapped the sole of his left boot against the flooring slowly, rhythmically, his eyes never straying from the young man still glued to the floor before him.

Rhys’ eyes swam from Jack’s tapping foot; to his well toned calve, up his thick thigh, to the space where his legs came to meet. Rhys swallowed hard, his throat flexing around the motion harshly. He buried his lip between his teeth, biting just a little too enthusiastically, trying with all his might to swallow back a gasp. Jack’s flaccid cock lay flush against his sack, settled on the couch limply. Jack leaned his head back against the couch vaulting his hips slightly and settling a palm over his surprisingly toned abdomen.

Rhys looked down to his own sinewy form, his muscle definition much less…apparent to say the least. He frowned and looked back to the man across from him.

Jack tossed a malicious grin in Rhys’ direction and chuckled slightly, chest rising and falling with the laughter.

“Y’know…you’re kinda cute when you blush like that kiddo.” Jack husked slowly his eyes perfect little slivers as they drowned Rhys in attention.

Rhys felt his throat clench and his pulse begin to thrum faster once more.

“I like it.” Jack finished his tone almost a snarl as it came loose from his lips.

Suddenly Jack’s hand was in motion, fingers sliding down the swells of his torso, following along the trail of walnut hair leading to his groin, only to finally pause at his placid cock. His palm curled around the limp anatomy, pulling upward, successfully drawing a low groan from the hollows of Jack’s lungs. Rhys could only watch with star struck eyes as Jack swelled in his own grip, filling with blood, stiffening until he was left painfully hard. Rhys felt his body shudder involuntarily, his own cock stirring with sudden interest.

Rhys gritted his teeth so hard it was beginning to make his jaw ache. His body was reacting in ways he hadn’t approved and he couldn’t control it now. He was quickly spiraling downward to a place he never thought he would be. Here he was faced with an age old itch that he’d tried his best to bury. So many nights where he’d been so weak and cried out Jack’s name at the peak of his finish, spilling over his fingers to the thought of Jack having him, owning him, forcing him to appease his every command. He’d ruined posters and pictures in bouts of pathetic need, falling victim again and again to things he shouldn’t want, yet did. He lowered his eyes in embarrassment, unsure of what to do, just wanting to dig a hole into the flooring and hide within it.

The sounds Jack was making were quickly becoming more obscene and more powerful, each groan and gasp kissing along the back of Rhys’ neck, reminding him of all the times he’d imagined this, of all the times he’d pleasured himself to this very situation. But here it was sitting feet from him, real, or what he assumed was real…it felt so real.

“Don’t be shy kitten. Why don’t you come here and join me sweet cheeks?” Jack swooned slowly.

The tone of his voice had changed from moments before; it was thicker now, huskier, rougher, full of want and full of need. Rhys’ pupils widened as he looked shyly at the Hyperion overlord spread before him, the invitation hanging in the air heavily. Jack’s eyes captured the half cybernetic man’s expectantly, waiting for him to make a move, for him to take incitement. Jack patted his thigh softly, his other hand never straying from his fluid stroking up his thick erection.

Before Rhys could argue the motion, he was rising to his unsteady feet, legs feeling like wet noodles beneath him. He stood exposed before the dangerous man, nothing to hide behind, and nothing to cover himself or the embarrassing turn his body had taken.

His own cock stood at full attention, swollen and pressed firmly against the soft of his belly, angry for attention. Rhys grimaced and furrowed his eyebrows together in shame. The Hyperion president seemed to sense the boy’s hesitance and smiled wryly.

“Mmm…no need to be ashamed kiddo, I tend to have that effect on people.” Jack hummed wickedly, beckoning a long finger at Rhys, urging the younger male to join him once more.

Rhys felt like his feet weighed a thousand pounds, setting them into motion was a strain on every muscle he possessed. He felt so heavy so fucking heavy. The walk to Jack’s inviting lap felt like the longest journey the amber haired man had ever made. It felt like it took years, eons, before he stood there inches from Jack’s expensive boots, the looming question of what to do next washing over him like ice water.

Rhys’ frantic feet fumbled slightly, and he accidently laid half of his bare foot on top of Jack’s placid boot. Jack’s eyebrows dipped in together and he shot Rhys a malicious, terrifying glance.

“Really kiddo?” Jack quipped looking down in displeasure.

Rhys tore his foot backward as if he’d touched open flames and looked at Jack in panic. Those boots most likely cost more than Rhys’ entire life savings.

“I-I I’m sorry I- uh…I didn’t mean to-“ Rhys stuttered frantically, sheer terror settling over his pounding heart.

Jack tilted his chin back a little and made a displeased noise on his tongue.

“You stepped on my boot kid. Do you _know_ how much these cost?” Jack snarled.

Before Rhys could make another feeble apology Jack’s fingers had snapped around his thin human wrist and pulled Rhys off his center of balance. Rhys nearly tumbled forward and braced himself on Jack’s shoulder clumsily. His wide eyes were mere inches from the glowering orbs that threatened him now.

“Get down, and make it right.” Jack hissed his fingers abandoning their hold on the young man’s wrist and taking up a new position curled tightly around his chin.

Rhys winced as nails dug in too hard and the touch quickly became too rough.

“What..?” Rhys stuttered before he could catch the question in his throat.

“Get down and lick it clean.” Jack snarled shaking Rhys’ face just a tad.

Rhys let out a desperately fearful breath and nodded quickly.

“Yes sir.” Rhys answered obediently.

“Good answer kiddo.” Jack praised through a smile full of toxins.

Rhys sunk to his knees without hesitation, already down on all fours before his mind could really wrap around the situation. Jack shifted the oppressed footwear slightly, offering it to the young man insistently.

Rhys cupped the sole of the boot in his hands, careful not to scratch it with his metal fingers. He looked up the long leg slowly; eyes coming to Jack’s as if looking for extol, some knowledge that he was doing this right.

“Just like that cupcake.” Jack reassured a slim smile following behind the sentence.

With the slight push of praising from Jack’s lips Rhys bent down over the fine leather of the boot, crooning his chin slightly, extending his tongue to lap a long, slow, stripe up the footwear’s length. From the tip of the outsole, over the length of the vamp, then up the length of the throat, stopping only to suck the closest pull strap diligently.

The motion gathered a long, throaty, fully fledged moan from the Hyperion CEO who observed the show with enthusiastic, wanting eyes. The heady sound from Jack’s lip was pleasant in Rhys’ ears, just further proof that he was performing adequately. He tipped the toe of the boot forward, exposing the heel cap to his demanding tongue, sucking the sharp corner wetly, and the noises were just loud enough to be audible in Jack’s ears. Jack hissed lowly and bucked into his own palm, cock flexing at the sight of the Hyperion underling so willingly lapping at the heel of his shoe. Rhys ran kisses adorningly over the underside of the sole, the material worn and rough from meeting with the ground on a regular basis. Jack groaned out huskily watching as Rhys licked up dirt and remnants of blood Jack had stepped in earlier without so much as a slight recoil. The young man even hummed against the footwear as the sharp, metallic, taste of blood pricked over his tongue. Jack’s angry erection wept thick pre-cum over his stilled fingers, the fluid warm and wet as he smeared it over his swollen head. Rhys’ lids drooped over his eyes wantonly, lips worried red from biting them hard in-between berating the exquisite shoe with attention. He captured the metallic piece of a zipper in his teeth and let it slide over his tongue slowly, sucking his pursed lips around it diligently. Rhys could feel his attention starved cock pulse and throb against him, and he whimpered slightly at the feeling. Jack watched the changing expression in the young man’s face with perked curiosity. Jack suddenly shoved the flat of his boot against Rhys’ collarbone hard, stilling the amber haired man’s movements. Rhys looked to Jack with wide, confusion washed orbs and swallowed thickly.

Jack did not offer him an explanation, just simply ran the toe of his boot down the heaving body of his counterpart. The Hyperion overlord made sure to move it downward slowly, painfully slowly, the thick, slightly wet, leather running over Rhys’ chest, over his abdomen, over his stomach, only to settle just to the left of his groin. The boot stilled then, settled against Rhys’ overly sensitive skin motionless and waiting…for what Rhys wasn’t sure.

Jack offered Rhys nothing but a slim smirk before moving the toe of his boot to gently press against the cybernetic male’s livid erection. Rhys made a sound that was caught between something lewd, and the sound one might make after being punched in the gut, and Jack soaked it in with bright, playful eyes.

“Mmm you like that kiddo?” Jack husked putting just a slight bit more pressure against Rhys’ shaft.

Rhys took a moment to gather his thoughts and feebly string shaky words together.

“Y-Yes…Y-es sir…” Rhys panted as Jack’s boot shifted a little, not pressing too hard, but just enough, just enough for Rhys’ need to leak shamelessly onto his stomach, intermixing with the coarse amber hairs there, and quickly becoming a sticky mess. Jack pointed his toe into Rhys’ underside harder, successfully getting Rhys to leak pre onto the outer sole.

Jack clicked his tongue scoldingly and eyed the young man pointedly. He pulled the boot back, and offered it to Rhys once more, putting emphasis on the dark stain of pre-cum that needed immediate cleaning. Rhys did as he was silently commanded to. His lithe tongue darted along the well constructed material, coming away with the sharp, potent taste of his own fluids.

“Oh goddamn kiddo…” Jack breathed softly, a shaky expel of breath following the sentence closely.

Jack set his boot back on the flooring suddenly and reached down to bury his fingers in the young man’s hair, forcing him to look up from his knees.

“Oh kiddo…do you _know_ how long I’ve wanted this? Do you know how _badly_ I’ve wanted this?” Jack husked is fingers leaving their grip on Rhys’ hair, only to travel round to his lips where Jack slid a blunt thumb over his bottom lip.

Rhys sighed into the touch, letting Jack fawn over him so god damned willingly. He groaned into the almost gentle fingers, eyes fluttering closed and lips parting slightly. He’d only imagined this in his wildest dreams, the dreams that would leave him sweaty and sticky when he woke in the morning, the dreams that left him embarrassed and flustered in the wake of dawn. Never would he have imagined he’d be hearing such words fall from Jack’s lips…such words spoken to _him,_ to only _him…because Jack needed him._

In that moment nothing else mattered, the world could have been fucking ending and Rhys wouldn’t have much cared. Handsome Jack was swooning over _him._ Handsome Jack was inviting him into his lap, Handsome Jack was going to _fuck_ him…or so he desperately hoped.

“O-oh god…” Rhys stuttered uselessly his cock throbbing at the thought.

Jack’s lips pulled back over perfect teeth at the small mutterings from the young man. He patted Rhys’ cheek fondly and leaned back into the couch once more.

“Join me, would you pumpkin?” Jack sneered viciously folding his arms up behind his head lazily, eyes sparkling with bad intentions.

That was all it took really, Rhys couldn’t get to his feet quick enough, willingly spreading himself over Jack’s thighs. Jack hummed lowly as the Hyperion lackey so enthusiastically obeyed his every command. He’d known he would of course, the kid was damned near obsessed with him, but watching him do it was just so much better than he could have imagined.

Rhys was thin and lithe as Jack wrapped his arms around him, big palms exploring over a prominent spine, jutting shoulder blades, the nape of a neck. Jack’s wandering hands trailed downward suddenly, feeling, touching, grasping, until they came to press against the round of Rhys’ ass. Rhys didn’t flinch, only bucked into Jack with more need, his own hands wrapping around the Ex-Hyperion overlords shoulders. Rhys mentally cursed himself for a moment for falling forward and _touching_ Jack, but the older man didn’t seem to protest Rhys’ arms looped around his neck.

Jack cracked a flat palm across Rhys’ left ass cheek and Rhys jolted forward, arching his spine involuntarily and letting a loud cry come forcefully from his tongue.

“That’s it baby, yell for me.” Jack growled thickly into the thrum of Rhys’ throat and Rhys obeyed, voice coming out even louder this time as Jack’s palm made swift contact with the doughy flesh of his rear.

With that Jack’s free hand that had just been steadily rubbing Rhys’ lower back, snapped to the back of Rhys’ head, pulling the younger man forward suddenly. Jack’s lips crushed against Rhys’ hard and mean, teeth clinking together on impact. Jack was dominant in the kiss, Rhys simply trying in vain to follow the pace of the other man’s tongue. Jack’s perfect teeth fastened around Rhys’ bottom lip hard enough for Rhys to see stars for a moment, and then taste blood in his mouth. He could feel the thick, new wound ooze blood down his chin, the liquid sliding down his throat, where Jack smeared it over his collar. It was warm and unexpectedly satisfying.

 _More…_ Rhys thought desperately… _please more._

Jack pulled back from the kiss panting, eyes terrifyingly vicious, mouth painted with blood that did not belong to him. The sight was both arousing and terrifying.

Rhys felt his breath catch in his throat. He’d never been so scared and so ready in all his life. Suddenly Jack was in motion, body moving, and arms strong as he swung Rhys onto the couch, his bare back hitting with a loud slap against the leather. Jack was all over him, all around him, invading every space, every crevice every breath. Rhys vaulted up into the heavier man atop him and let loose of a moan that was embarrassing to say the least. Jack seemed to only feed off the pitiful sound, eyes wicked and smile even more so.

Jack leaned down, the heat of his mouth flush against his counterparts pulse, causing Rhys to freeze with anticipation.

“I’m going to fuck you absolutely _stupid_ kitten.” Jack husked his teeth capturing the tenderness of the other male’s skin between their wraths.

Rhys moaned out feebly, hips bucking into Jack’s, arousal taking over, he just needed it. He just needed this…all of this.

Jack kissed down the slope of Rhys’ throat, lips warm, whispering threats and promise across the flushed flesh. His slimmer counterpart was falling apart beneath him, body wound like an overly tight spring, ready to come loose at any moment.

Then Jack was gone, trailing down Rhys’ heaving, shuddering body. Jack leaned back on his knees, spreading Rhys wide around him, opening him up like a damned offering. Rhys wanted nothing more than to please Jack’s every whim, he wanted to be used, and he wanted to be _abused._ Jack ran a slim finger over the underside of Rhys’ engorged cock, gathering a whimper from the slender male. Rhys was only a smidge above average, but damned if he wasn’t _pretty._ Jack took a moment to fawn over his counterpart’s pristine dick, thumbing over his angry crimson prick. Jack pressed his own erection against the other man’s and grinned wryly at the size difference. Rhys’ internally shuddered at how _big_ Jack was, and then shuddered again at the thought of _all_ of _that_ being stuffed inside of him. Rhys’ entrance puckered tight at the consideration.

Nothing seemed to get past Jack, and he snickered at Rhys’ concerned expression.

“What’s wrong princess? Too big?” Jack cooed slyly.

Rhys gulped loudly, and furrowed his eyebrows together in worry.

“I-uh…I no…I-I’ve just….” Rhys stuttered frantically.

Jack cocked a coy eyebrow at him and pursed his lips.

“Lemme guess, you’ve never done this before?” Jack snarled tauntingly.

Rhys shook his head slowly, a whole new wave of embarrassment flooding over him.

“Don’t worry cupcake….I’ll go easy.” Jack reassured smoothly fingers gliding over Rhys’ perineum, then pressing softly against his back entrance.

Jack could feel Rhys’ tight ring of muscles shy away at his touch and he snickered to himself darkly.

 _I’m going to absolutely **wreck** this nerd. _ He thought viciously, bringing a finger to his lips and sucking thoughtfully.

When the digit was thoroughly slicked to his standards Jack returned it to Rhys’ puckered flesh. The feeling of the thick finger was alien as it pulsed through Rhys’ over sensitive body, receiving strained cries from his throat. Jack leaned in to hum against Rhys’ chin, still slick with his own blood.

Jack made a shushing sound against Rhys’ lips and whispered a barely detectable ‘relax’. Rhys whined slightly and anchored his hips to the couch, fingers finding hold around Jack’s shoulders. The hinge of Jack’s mask was cold on Rhys’ skin as the older man kissed over his jaw, and Rhys groaned at the feeling. Suddenly the thick finger inserted up to the knuckle didn’t exactly sting…it ached, slightly, but most of all it felt _good._ Really…good.

Jack took Rhys’ soft moans as signs to proceed with a second finger, adding it to the first, Rhys’ body clenching slightly around the larger girth. Rhys screwed his eyes shut and dipped his chin, pressing it firmly into his collar, and Jack took the opportunity to kiss his hairline. Jack’s fingers then began to curl inside Rhys, gently at first, then with more persistence. Until one of his finger pads brushed against something deep within the young man that had him bucking and gasping like he’d been electrified. Jack chuckled against Rhys’ ear.

“That’s the spot huh kitten?” Jack near panted, continuing to stroke Rhys’ prostate with firm assertion.

Rhys could only moan and whimper into the body pressing him down, all hope of forming words having fluttered from his brain.

Rhys could feel every muscle in his lower body tightening, rippling with a heat that was near scalding. He looked at Jack through heavy, drunken lashes; mouth a perfect oval that allowed pitiful sounds to slip through. He was close, really, really close. Rhys’ hips left the couch as Jack worked him, pushing into the fingers with utter urgency.

 _Just a little more_ …Rhys thought desperately, his thighs clenching around Jack’s body, his abdomen clasping mercilessly….and then, the attention from Jack’s fingers ceased altogether. Jack retracted his fingers slowly, getting a displeased groan from the male beneath him.

“Uh, uh, uh, not yet pumpkin.” Jack scolded wagging a still wet finger in Rhys’ direction.

Rhys’ hips snapped back to the couch’s surface and he whined out pathetically as his much needed finish pulsed and ebbed through his groin.

“We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” Jack hissed tilting his head in amusement.

Everything from that point was a blur. Rhys could hear Jack slicking his own cock, fingers sliding the length of his shaft, skin bundling in his fist as he pulled upward. He could also hear the small guttural groans coming forth from Jack’s chest as he did so. Then there was the feeling of Jack’s blunt head pressing against Rhys’ tight flesh. Rhys bucked slightly and whimpered softly as his entrance began to stretch around the girth forcing forward. The ache settled through his muscles, the pinch stinging and pleasant all in the same breath. Jack kept true to his word and let Rhys pulse and stretch around his first few inches before adding any more. Jack would back out, and then add just a little more with each shallow thrust, Rhys’ body fluttering and puckering around the intrusion.

“S-Son of a taint kiddo you are fucking _tight._ ” Jack murmured his voice low and gruff.

When Rhys’ whimpers of pain had deteriorated into small moans of pleasure and hums of want, Jack fully sheathed himself within the younger man’s ass.

Rhys cried out loudly, flinging his arms up over his head, lifting his hips to Jack eagerly.

Jack took the boy’s movements as an obvious invitation, and rolled his hips forward, filling the small space, and then backing out, only to stuff himself in once more. Jack hovered over him, closing the gap between their bodies as he began his slow rhythm into the body provided, big hands coming to slender hips, dragging Rhys into each thrust. Rhys wasn’t sure what came over him, but suddenly his frantic hands were worrying through Jack’s walnut locks, pulling him down to force their lips together. He just needed to taste him, taste everything that he was, and feel everything he could be. Jack didn’t protest, only pressed into the kiss with more urgency, his hips snapping harder into the younger man, causing Rhys to gasp against Jack’s lips.

Everything was suddenly hot, burning him alive, like a wildfire it was consuming his every nerve. His bones were mere kindling to the outrageous fire swarming within him. Jack’s hips were frantic against his, his pace harder, fiercer. Rhys moaned out desperately, fingers twitching against Jack’s scalp uselessly. His legs wrapped tight around Jack’s strong hips and he bore down on the girth forcing into him, wanting more, _needing_ more. Jack kissed against the sharp of Rhys cheek, the false flesh of his mask cool to the touch whereas the rest of Jack’s body was not. The heat between them was near unbearable, the air between them becoming thick and heavy as they breathed into each other. Small beads of sweat pricked at Jack’s hairline, and his lids slatted closed in a look of sheer concentration.

“J-Jack!!! F-Fuck!!” Rhys cried out weakly moving fluidly against Jack’s body.

Jack seemed to shudder at the mention of his own name, gasping out as Rhys clenched around him hard, body tightening around Jack’s swollen shaft.

“That’s it kiddo! Say my fucking name!!” Jack barked thrusting into Rhys harder, Rhys’ entire body lurching forward with each forceful hump.

Rhys tilted his head back dramatically, toes curling involuntarily.

“Jack, Jack, JACK!!! HANDSOME JACK!!!” Rhys cried shamelessly his voice strained and shrill.

Jack’s voice became a prayer on Rhys’ lips, crying his counterpart’s name as if it were the only word he knew.

Jack expelled a loud moan through his pearly teeth and a not so gentle palm curled around Rhys’ slender thigh. Rhys’ cock wept onto his stomach pitifully, bobbing shamelessly before the younger man as Jack utterly owned him. Rhys’ moans raised an octave as his whole body began to tighten once more, ankles locking around Jack’s working hips, fingers stilling in the CEO’s hair.

Rhys’ eyebrows knitted together and his mouth fell open in a wide circle, no sound coming forth. Jack recognized the stilling of the slimmer man and the pained look on his face. He was young and he was new to this, Jack figured he wouldn’t last very long…and he was right.

Rhys moaned out wildly as his torso clenched tight, the stiffness rippling down through his thighs and settling in his groin. Rhys’ hips left the cushions for a moment, everything pausing in time, before coming crashing down like a flood. His cock swelled slightly, before urgently spending itself up over his sucked in stomach. Long, powerful ropes of cum pulsing over his pale skin, cock jumping with every expense of semen. The only thing that came off Rhys’ frantic lips were the syllables of Jack’s name, accompanying him through the throws of hard orgasm. His body slumped back down onto the couch weakly, his head falling to the side as he panted into the golden leather material. Jack allowed the young man to relish in his finish, savoring it with strained, pleased sighs and gasps. Jack wasn’t far behind him, fucking him like he’d never fucked anything before. He fucked him ragged, Rhys’ raw, abused entrance pulsing red around his hardness. Jack watched enthralled as he pounded into the robotic man, allowing himself to cum much quicker than he normally would have. The kid was already spent, so Jack saw it as a prime invitation to near break the nerd to get to his much needed peak.

Jack groaned low in his throat, thin eyebrows sunken over closed eyes, and suddenly Rhys was flooded with the feeling of Jack finishing inside of him. He could feel the Hyperion king pulse within the tight space of his body, spending his load frantically, hips pressed flush to Rhys’ rear as he came.

Jack shuddered against the thin male and huffed out tiredly.

A slim smile then followed behind a playful chuckle.

“Who woulda thought you would actually be a good lay kiddo?” Jack sneered, his voice trailing off and becoming fuzzy on Rhys’ ears.

Suddenly Rhys’ eyelids snapped open, his echo eye flickering and adjusting to the new light it was soaking in. He drew in a shaky breath and soaked in his surroundings, confusion settling over him frantically. He looked to the side, only to be met by the bare, old wood of the shack he’d settled in with Vaughn last night. The golden couch, and golden rug, were gone as was Jack, and the fucking and the pleasure and the….and the…

Rhys looked down his torso and a little whimper escaped his lips that now curled into a nasty grimace. His boxers were shoved down around his thighs carelessly, his softening obviously spent cock going limp in his mechanical hand, trails of glistening finish decorating up his still slightly flushed torso.

It had been a dream. All of it was a fucking dream. Rhys groaned out and pressed his fleshed hand to his hot forehead.

There was a crackle of sound across his temple, just barely kissing at his ear. A crackle he was all too fucking familiar with.

“So how’d you sleep cupcake?” It chortled through flickering static.

Rhys sighed out heavily and closed his eyes…as much as he hated to admit it…his body felt…undeniably rested. More rested than he’d felt in _days._

“Good.” Rhys panted out his voice still unsteady.

“Good to the sleep or good to the dream sex pumpkin?” Jack teased hauntingly his voice warm on Rhys’ ears.

Rhys uncurled his robotic fingers from his flaccid cock and pulled his boxers back up his pale thighs, tucking himself shamefully back into his clothing.

“Both.” Rhys admitted uselessly, forcing himself into a sitting position.

The young man was met by the hollow sound of amused laughter and he cringed a little at his way too truthful answer to the phantom’s question.

Rhys ran a slim hand through his sleep disheveled hair and searched the room for something to clean the mess he’d made of himself before his friend awoke.

Nobody ever said dealing with ghosts would be simple….


	3. Specters and Shotguns

Specters and Shotguns

Rhys pulled on his pants irritably, the material already raising his body temperature by a few degrees. The sun had just barely hung itself in the low sky and already Pandora’s ridiculous, simmering heat was settling down on the landscape.

Rhys crossed the room, slinging on his undershirt skillfully and gently shook Vaughn’s shoulder. Vaughn startled awake with a shrill cry.

“Hey! Hey it’s me!” Rhys comforted retracting his hand from his friend quickly.

Vaughn squinted at the taller man half leaned on the dirty mattress and sighed out in relief.

“Man don’t do that…you almost gave me a heart attack…” Vaughn groaned rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Sorry.” Rhys retorted sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders at the shorter man.

Vaughn lifted up slowly, his ridiculously well toned abdomen folding with the action. Rhys frowned and looked down at his own physique. His mind then wandered off to the dream he’d been so consumed with only hours ago, and Jack’s fairly cut figure. Rhys snorted. Was he the only one not sporting a six pack around this joint? Rhys backed off the bed and went about stuffing their feeble supplies into the tattered backpack they’d picked up from an abandoned camp two days ago. He pulled out a package of around ten stale crackers and sighed heavily. This was the last food they had and who knew when they’d be stumbling across more. Rhys wasn’t exactly a ‘hunter’ and he had no idea what planets were edible on this damned planet, if any.

Vaughn yanked on his own clothing and perched his glasses on his nose, adjusting them accordingly. Rhys offered the small package to Vaughn and frowned.

“This is the last of it. We’ve got to find some kind of civilization soon…” Rhys muttered darkly.

Vaughn sighed out and shook his head.

“Save it. I’m not really hungry right now anyway.” Vaughn whispered giving Rhys a grim expression.

Rhys walked to the door and peered out into the vast desert, the world painted glorious oranges and reds with the new sunrise.

“Well we better get going before the sun gets too high.” Rhys breathed rubbing the back of his head, the familiar material of his robotic arm cool against his scalp.

Vaughn nodded bleakly.

Things were not looking to be any more in their favor than the day previous. There were still miles of endless sand dunes between them and any sort of hope to live.

“If only we could get our hands on an echo device then we could call Fiona or Sasha…or Yvette.” Rhys whispered slinging the pack over his sore shoulder and following the accountant out the shack door.

“Yeah…but the only way to get an echo would be to steal it off one of these insane bandits…we don’t even have a gun…” Vaughn groaned looking to his taller counterpart as they started off into the desert, trying their best to hug the base of a cliff that ran the length of the landscape.

Rhys looked down to his robotic arm sadly. The communication between his echo eye, and his arm had been knocked loose days ago after falling out of the van. He hadn’t been able to get his echo to make calls since. Rendering them pretty much shit out of luck. They couldn’t call for help, they had no idea where they were going, their food and water supply were running dangerously low, and they hadn’t so much as seen heads or tails of a village since they set out on this trek.

All they could do was keep moving, if they stayed in one place for too long, bandits might be able to trail them, bandits, or wildlife, and neither was ideal.

Rhys trailed behind Vaughn slightly his footsteps slow and tired. Though the nights rest had rejuvenated him leaps and bounds, his body was still worn from the past few days of hardship. Rhys felt his cheeks fill with color a little at the mere thought of last night.

He was used to Jack torturing him, taunting him, making him absolutely miserable…but he was not used to…that. He was not used to Handsome Jack handing out _pleasure?_ It just didn’t make any damned sense. It only left Rhys more confused and frustrated than before. He knew Jack could see his every thought, his every memory, he should have known Jack would find the ones where Rhys had…uh…pleasured himself to the thought of Handsome Jack.

 _Great…_ Rhys thought irritably. That was just another way Jack could toy with his brain. Just some more strings for him to pull. Jack had been unusually quiet for most the morning and Rhys was mentally thanking him for it. He didn’t need Jack’s commentary right now. He just needed to be alone…or the closest thing to it. He was never really _alone_ anymore. Jack was always there, silent or not he was always looming within Rhys, and he could do nothing about that.

Was it always going to be like this? Sharing a body with the Hyperion CEO? Feeling his dreadful warmth within his skull forever? Rhys shuddered at the thought. He couldn’t exist like this forever. He had to find a way to undo all of this. He had to reclaim his body somehow.

“Oh is being stuck with me really all that bad Rhysie?” Jack flickered into view suddenly, right in front of Rhys, the slender male walking straight into his hologram and screaming out with the onset of static to his port, arm, and the rest of his body.

Rhys sunk down in pain, clenching his port miserably, knees digging into the sand as he writhed.

Vaughn had already turned heel and was rushing to his friend’s side.

“Rhys! Rhys! What the hell!? Are you ok??” Vaughn hissed kneeling down beside Rhys, worry flooding over his expression.

Rhys cringed away from his friend’s touch without meaning to, his eyes snapping open as the cold pain slowly withered away.

Jack backed away from the thin Hyperion employee and rolled his eyes in a disgusted fashion.

“Seriously, I would get paired with the biggest pussy on the planet. I mean c’mon I barely touched you.” Jack quipped folding his arms.

“S-Shut-up!!” Rhys barked without meaning to and Vaughn recoiled at his counterpart’s outburst, his small hands coming away from Rhys’ shoulders in confusion.

“Rhys? Uh…what did I say?...I’m…uh sorry?” Vaughn whispered his eyes furrowing together in worry.

Rhys realized how the scene must look to his best friend and he shook his head violently.

“N-no…not you Vaughn…not you…” Rhys stuttered shakily, still trying to recollect himself and failing miserably.

Vaughn tilted his head eyes glittering with concern.

He offered Rhys a helping hand and Rhys lifted himself to his feet.

“I’m sorry…my echo implant…it’s acting up. I’m starting to…hear things…see things…” Rhys whispered slowly.

Vaughn frowned slightly and placed a reassuring palm on Rhys’ upper arm.

“Like…what kinds of things?” Vaughn whispered squinting at Rhys.

Rhys sucked in a long breath his shoulders falling slightly. His eyes flicked just to the left of Vaughn, where Jack stood scrutinizing Rhys with displeased eyes.

“You tell him kiddo, I will fucking kill you.” Jack hissed strolling closer to Rhys, his body moving with dangerously catlike grace.

He stared Rhys down like a predator hunting weak prey, every movement slow and calculated, simply waiting for his meal to step wrong. He was watching, observing, _stalking_ and when Rhys least expected, his teeth would come forth to wrap around his jugular. Jack circled round Rhys’ body, jittering apart suddenly, only to reform seconds later.

Rhys followed Jack’s movements with his mismatched eyes, echo orb shifting and focusing with a small mechanical hiss.

“You can’t kill me…” Rhys whispered so low even Vaughn, who was standing feet from him couldn’t hear.

Jack stopped his slow movement, lip curling into a wicked snarl, eyes boring down into Rhys’ very soul. Rhys could feel all the blood rush from his face as the president stared him down with vicious intent.

“No. But I can make your every waking second a living, fucking, hell.” Jack snapped off every syllable ferociously.

Jack’s fingers brushed the side of Rhys’ temples, just barely skating around his port skillfully. Rhys flinched away from the cold touch and shot Jack a vicious glare.

“You don’t want that now do you kiddo?” Jack hissed cracking his neck loudly, then following up with all his knuckles.

“Kiddo, you have no _idea_ what I could do to you. I’m just figuring out everything that makes you work, just learning all that makes you tick, once I gather all the ways to make you dance, I will have you in the palm of my hand.” Jack broke the words off with a loud snap of his teeth.

Rhys stood his ground weakly as the hologram’s fingers brushed through the back of his head, sending chills down his spine like ice.

“I can completely _destroy_ you cupcake. Piece by piece, I can tear you down like wet tissue paper. So you best think long and hard before you answer that question kiddo….very long and hard.” Jack snarled his voice low and warning as he flickered from view, evaporating into thin air as if he’d never been there to begin with.

Rhys sighed sadly and his eyes met with Vaughn’s concerned features.

“You don’t even want to know.” Rhys whispered shaking his head.

Vaughn knew that tone of voice. He would know it anywhere. He’d known Rhys for a long time now; he’d shared his apartment with him for years, worked with him, existed with him. They were close, and he knew there was something more buried behind Rhys’ vague explanation. There was more the taller man wanted to say…but for some reason he was holding back. He was hiding something. Vaughn wanted to ask what it was, he wanted to know why. They didn’t keep secrets, that wasn’t them…but something told him not to pry. Something told him to just leave it be, and so he did.

“Hey man, its ok. We’re in this together. We’ve got each other’s back. We’ll get that eye fixed as soon as we figure a way out of this desert, ok?” Vaughn said smiling cheerily.

Rhys could always count on Vaughn to look on the lighter side of things. He was definitely a ‘glass half full’ sort of guy, and right now that was what Rhys needed.

“Thanks bro.” Rhys whispered forcing a half smile.

Vaughn nodded and patted Rhys’ shoulder then looked to the sky; only to see a few lonely Rakk had began following them lazily.

“We’d better get moving before we become lunch.” Vaughn groaned walking side by side with his taller friend.

“Oh gross are ya’ll gunna kiss now or what?” Jack’s taunted in Rhys’ ear.

Rhys said nothing, just kept his eyes straight forward, gritting his teeth at the remark.

The day seemed to drag along like some sort of maimed animal, limping forward slowly, bleeding out onto the sand. Hours had gone by with not so much as a single sign of civilization. The two boy’s forward motion had slowed to a snail’s pace, their movements slow and heavy.

Rhys shielded his eyes from the sun and looked skyward, he could feel his skin frying, his lips becoming more chapped than they already were. The cliff’s mass provided a slight amount of shade, but not enough to bring much relief. Vaughn rounded the corner of the cliff slowly and Rhys saw his whole body freeze.

Rhys picked up his pace, closing the gap between him and his counterpart quickly. Vaughn turned gleefully, his face lighting up brightly.

“Rhys! It’s an oasis!!” Vaughn near yelled taking off running toward the small natural spring tucked back behind the looming red rocks of the cliff. Rhys did his best to jog after him, wincing in pain as his blistered feet rubbed against his boots.

Vaughn sunk to his knees on the shore of the small pond and laughed heartily, dipping his fingers into the clear water. It wasn’t like the other water sources they’d come across that seemed to be tainted with toxic waste and garbage, this was pristine and gorgeous. Rhys was pretty sure he’d never seen anything more fucking beautiful in all his life.

Vaughn looked to Rhys expectantly.

“Is it safe to drink?” Vaughn asked eagerly.

Rhys scanned the pond with his echo eye and a wide grin cracked across his slim features.

“It’s clean enough to drink.” Rhys replied dropping to his knees beside Vaughn.

Before the entire sentence had left Rhys’ lips Vaughn was leaned down shoveling mouthfuls of water to his dry lips, slurping the fluid out of his palms noisily. Rhys joined him, the cool water rushing down his throat and hitting his belly like a kick to the gut. He groaned out lowly, bringing more to his lips, quenching his burning thirst greedily. Rhys let the water wash up over his face and through his hair, tiny streams running down the back of his neck and underneath his undershirt. Without really even thinking about it, he was stripping off his shirt and hustling to undo his pants. He just needed to feel that relief all over; he just needed the water all around his tired body. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to wash all the filth of the past few days from his body. With his jeans and his shirt left abandoned on the shore he eased himself into the ponds water, walking the bottom until it was over his head then sinking beneath the liquids surface. Rhys ran his hands through his soaked hair, letting all the remnants of dirt, dust, and sweat wash free from the locks. His muscles seemed to unravel at the water’s touch, the cool liquid lapping around him, consuming him, easing him into a completely relaxed state. He could hear Vaughn splashing around in the water behind him, following Rhys’ lead. The sun’s rays had no power here, the shaded pond seeming to ward it away. Rhys sighed out in relief just letting his body become weightless in the water, thankful for this small stroke of luck. It was about time something; anything started working in their favor.

Rhys eased himself out of the water and flopped back on the wet sand of the shore, closing his eyes for a moment and simply letting his overheated body rest.

The sun was beginning to sink low in the sky, giving the two travelers a small window of just a few more hours of daylight. Rhys looked to Vaughn with tired eyes.

“I guess this place is as good as any to bunk down for the night.” Rhys shrugged slowly.

Vaughn nodded.

“We can at least refill our water supply and it seems pretty protected.” Vaughn nodded in agreement.

“I’ll go try and find some kindling for a fire.” Rhys grunted hauling himself up off the ground and stepping back into his pants.

He didn’t even bother with his undershirt, it was just too fucking hot for that much clothing, and he was enjoying the leftover reprieve from the water’s cool feeling on his skin. Rhys wandered through the twisting red rock formations, climbing over them slowly, peering out over the landscape. His eyes settled on a rather dead looking plant just a few paces away and he trekked on toward it. His feet paused as he came to the brittle looking pile of dead plant life.

He guessed this would have to do. The young man gathered the rough sticks up into his arms, bundling them carefully.

As he reached down to grab another of the gnarled little sticks, his ears were kissed by a monstrous noise booming over the landscape. Rhys snapped back into a standing position and squinted off into the sand dunes. He could tell the sound was getting closer….he knew that sound…it was the groaning of an engine. The growling, beastly, engine of a bandit technical. Rhys felt himself freeze as he saw the cloud of dust billowing up in the distance, the far off yells and whoops of the technical’s occupants filling his senses.

“Oh shit.” Rhys muttered breathlessly, dropping all the kindling he’d gathered.

Rhys whipped around, his boots nearly slipping in the soft sand and took in a desperate sprint. He could hear the engines drone becoming closer, the sound rumbling up louder from the landscape. It was a hellish sound, dark and low and mean.

Rhys scrambled back to the pond’s vicinity breathless and panting, Vaughn shooting him a suddenly concerned look at the sight of the panicked other man.

“Bandit Technical! We gotta hide! NOW!” Rhys bellowed grabbing hold of their pack and taking off into the maze of twisting red rock formations.

Rhys skidded around a large bolder, Vaughn not feet behind him, and pressed his back against the rock, panting fearfully, his breath ragged and terrified.

They could hear the squealing of the technical’s tires, spinning in the sand as it came to a loud halt just on the other side of the pond.

Vaughn looked to Rhys with wide, fearful eyes and Rhys put his mechanical finger to his lips in a shushing fashion.

The rumbling engine suddenly cut off, throwing the world into silence as the machine quieted. There was the slamming of doors then the gruff sounds of voices following shortly behind. Rhys could hear the bandits talking, their voices becoming easier to decipher as they neared the pond’s edge.

“Hey skip! You been out here gettin’ water today you greedy bastard?” A rough voice accused loudly.

There was a string of curses and a grumble before the other party referred to as ‘skip’ answered.

“Nope. Been runnin down Hyperion shipment trucks all day, I aint been out here.” Skip replied gruffly.

“Well…looks like we had ourselves some little intruders then. Look at all these footprints! Someone just made themselves right at home on our fuckin’ land…” The other voice snarled viciously.

Rhys could hear the crunch of sand beneath heavy boots as the bandit rounded the pond, his pace slow and stalking.

“Sumthin’ don’t smell right round here. You know what I think skip…I think…those little bastards are still scrounging around here somewhere…” The loudest voice hissed.

“You think so boss?” Skip answered and Rhys could just make out the sound of a shotgun being cocked.

Rhys felt his body go numb with fear his eyes shifting to look over at his counterpart, the accountant’s face had gone white with terror, both of their eyes filled with dread as they met.

“Let the biggin go, she’ll sniff em’ out.” The gruffer voice hollered.

There was the loud clanging sound of some sort of metal hitch being undone, then the slam of a gate falling. There was a great, ear piercing roar that rang out through the area, bounding off the cliff face and biting at Rhys’ eardrums.

Rhys winced.

“What the fuck was that…” Vaughn whispered shaking slightly.

Rhys shook his head frantically. He had no fucking idea what that was, but it sure as hell didn’t sound good.

“It’s a skag, big one too. Probably an alpha, looks to be some sort of trained one, hunting skag most likely, and it’s about ten seconds from sniffing you two dumbasses out.” Jack’s static voice crackled across Rhys’ senses causing the amber haired male to flinch slightly.

“Great…” Rhys muttered lowly.

“What?” Vaughn hissed looking at Rhys.

Rhys opened his mouth to answer but the words never came, before he could speak there was the heavy sound of clawed paws clicking over the stone they were huddling behind.

Rhys kept his eyes straight ahead, back pressed to the rock tightly, trying not to move, trying not to breathe. Suddenly Rhys felt a very wet sensation running down his shoulder. He glanced down, a thick, frothy almost clear liquid fell languidly onto his skin and began its decent down his upper arm. Rhys’ eyes traveled from the liquid running down his anatomy to slowly, ever so slowly look upward. His eyes met with a set of ragged, glistening jaws, and two brown, intelligent eyes. The beast’s jaws quivered slightly the moment seeming to hover in the air for eons, then suddenly it reared its head back and let loose of an ear splitting howl, the sound echoing off the rocks around them. Rhys’ palms shot to cover his ears, his body flinching at the ear splitting sound.

The beast’s cry was soon answered by thick, heavy boots running toward the creature. Suddenly the barrel of a shotgun came over the top of the boulder, accompanying the great skag, a bandit following close behind. The massive, masked man crooned over the rock, shotgun steady in his hands.

Rhys and Vaughn both slowly raised their hands into the air in a non threatening fashion, but the bandit did not move. He simply stilled, observing them both, scrutinizing the two scrawny men huddled beneath him. Then finally the bandit dropped the shotgun a little in his grip and reared back in heavy, chest splitting, laughter. He waved his hand in the air trying to collect himself and gripped his side chortling lowly.

“Well looky what we got here. A couple of Hyperion dickwads! Whooo boys….you two, are a lonnnngg way from home aren’t ya?” The bandit chuckled leaning down and hanging his arms over his knees.

He patted the big skag lovingly and the beast cooed in response.

“Good girl biggin’.” The bandit swooned to the big creature then looked back to the two men frozen beneath him.

“Now…what you boys are gunna do, is you’re gunna stand up real slow like, put those hands on the backs of yer heads.” The bandit drawled waving the barrel of the gun in a slow, circular motion.

Vaughn looked to Rhys, as if expecting him to have some sort of plan, hoping with all his might that Rhys did.

Rhys mouthed ‘just do it’ to the accountant and Vaughn’s lip tightened in fear. The two boys rose to their feet slowly, interlacing their fingers behind their heads. Rhys looked to the masked bandit, getting a good eyeful of his double barrel Torgue shotgun. Rhys swallowed hard and eyed the checkered weapon warily, he knew damn well one shot from that beast of a gun would leave him lying in about thirty different pieces.

The bandit chuckled in amusement and tilted his masked face. He then lifted up suddenly, hefted himself over the boulder and landed hard on the other side, a little puff of dust coming up from the flats of his heavy combat boots.

“You two pretty boys form a nice little line, and get a move on.” The bandit snarled shoving the barrel into Rhys’ spine and forcing him to follow Vaughn’s lead.

Rhys settled his eyes on the back of Vaughn’s head and groaned out lowly, of all the fucking things, just when he thought their luck might be turning around…this happens.

The two men rounded the pond slowly, bandit and skag in tow and the other bandit slippped off his lounged position on the hood of the technical, his Maliwan SMG swaying in his ready grip.

“Skip looky what we got! Couple Hyperion pussies fresh off Helios.” The bandit whooped digging the barrel into Rhys harder, shoving him forward, the young man nearly tripping over his own feet.

The bandit addressed as skip sauntered toward the two males casually, looking them over like fresh meat for slaughter. Skip grabbed Vaughn by the chin and shook slightly, dipping his head back with two fingers, then leaving him to look Rhys over. He scrunched up his dirty, mud splattered face, his eyes the only thing really visible, the rest being covered by a faded bandana.

“Couple of scrawny little things, aren’t they Bubba. What they don’t feed ya’ll up in that spiffy little moon base or what?” Skip snorted wryly.

His eyes ran down Rhys’ form then back up him curiously. He jabbed the end of his SMG up underneath Rhys’ chin and the young man grimaced, squinting one eye closed.

“You got some real interesting mechanics going on don’t ya handsome?” Skip snarled wickedly.

“Hey Bubba, this one’s got one of those Echo eye thingamajigs, and a cybernetic arm. Bet those would fetch a right high price on the black market.” Skip continued tapping the gun against Rhys’ echo port, getting a sharp, painful gasp from the young man.

“That hurt princess?” Skip chuckled hocking loudly and spitting right on Rhys’ boot.

Rhys grimaced and did not answer the question.

The bandit addressed as Bubba snorted loudly and ran his fingers down the spines of the great skag glued to his side.

“Oh you’re damn right they will. Them folks would pay a pretty penny for an Echo eye like that. We’d be sittin’ pretty for weeks!” Bubba chuckled lightly, his shotgun still ready in his hand.

“Whaddabout the little guy. What we gunna do with him?” Skip asked moving back to Vaughn with slow, heavy strides.

Vaughn held his ground as the man approached, Rhys had to hand it to Vaughn, he was a tough little shit. Vaughn locked eyes with the bandit and did not waver.

“Maybe we’ll keep him. Put a fancy lil collar on him and stroll him around like a dog.” Bubba snickered darkly.

Vaughn’s wildly un-amused gaze flicked to the other bandit.

“I’d rather be fed to skags.” Vaughn snapped viciously, spitting a little as the words came forth.

Bubba patted the shoulder blade of his beast and chuckled.

“You know, that could be arranged you ornery little bastard.” Bubba hissed wagging the shotgun in Vaughn’s direction.

“Well I’m tired of fuckin around, let’s just kill em, take that one’s arm and eye and get on with it.” Skip barked reloading his SMG loudly.

Bubba rolled his eyes and crossed over to Vaughn lazily, his steps slow, boots dragging the sand.

He lifted the shotgun sharply, pressing it flush to his shoulder and butted it against Vaughn’s head.

Rhys felt all the breath leave his lungs. He needed to do _something._ He had to do _something._ If he didn’t he was about watch his best friend’s brains be blown out all over the sand. He couldn’t let that happen. He _wouldn’t_ let that happen.

There was a flicker of cold static across the back of Rhys’ neck and a loud ringing in his ears. Suddenly Jack’s voice swam through him, his translucent form appearing in haste before Rhys’ eyes.

“The fuck is going on here kiddo?” Jack hissed looking to the bandits then looking to Rhys.

Jack shook his head in disbelief and cursed loudly.

“Seriously kid? What the fuck are you useful for, you can’t even save your own gooddamn ass!?” Jack bellowed shaking his head wildly.

Rhys just stared at him, then to the gun raised at Vaughn.

“Jack please, please do something.” Rhys hissed his eyes wide and fearful.

Jack stared at him with dark, vicious eyes.

“You fucking owe me kiddo.” Jack snarled.

“If I didn’t need you to stay alive, I’d let these disgusting bandits gut you on the spot, I just thought you should know that.” Jack growled darkly.

Rhys made a distressed face.

“Jack!” He snapped.

Jack waved his hand in a dismissing fashion.

“ You really aren’t gunna like this kiddo.” Jack breathed quickly and before Rhys could protest Jack was raising his hand and jamming his finger into his echo port.

Rhys felt himself go rigid, a loud yell bursting forth from his lungs. It was like a pulse of lightening had struck through him, coursing through his bones, down into his muscles, every last inch of him consumed in sharp, unbearable pain. Then it all went dark. Like the very life had been sucked right out of him. Rhys felt like he’d lost consciousness for a moment, head spinning, body suddenly numb. He blinked slowly, eyes confused as he tried to focus on one single thing. He could see Vaughn, and the bandits but they were blurry…so fucking blurry. It took Rhys a moment to really adjust to the scene before him. He looked down, his arms were moving, fingers flexing, but he wasn’t moving them. Rhys tried to move something, anything…but without success. Panic began to settle over him as he heard an echo of a laugh brew up from his own chest. That laugh wasn’t his. That voice…wasn’t his.

Jack. Rhys thought in horror.

Jack wasn’t just in his head now, he was in _control._

Both bandits startled at the sound of the young man’s scream, Bubba’s shotgun immediately pointed in his direction.

“The fuck was that boy?” Bubba hissed stepping closer with the shotgun.

The amber haired male chuckled lightly, the sound bubbling up maliciously. The bandit seemed to recoil slightly at the laughter and raised his gun higher.

“Hey! I asked you a question! You best answer me right now!” The bandit yelled sharply.

The taller man looked up then, eyes now a mismatched deep russet and vibrant gold. Rhys straightened his back, cracked his neck to the side slowly, eyes closing for a moment, then rotated his shoulders lazily.

His ill assorted eyes fell on the bandit languidly, pausing momentarily.

“You didn’t say please cupcake.” Jack hissed through Rhys’ borrowed lips.

With that the much taller male grabbed the end of the shotgun, snapped it out of the bandit’s fingers, turned it around, pressed the barrel to his head and pulled the trigger. The bandit’s head bucked back limply, exploding on the spot, painting the ground and the entire left side of Jack's borrowed body. Jack wiped a smidge of brain from his cheek before stepping over the dead man, and unloading the second shot into the accompanying bandit, who didn’t even have the time to raise his gun before the round caught him in the gut.

He screamed shrilly and his knees hit the ground hard, belly blown open, innards spilling out slickly. Jack put another round in his head as he passed him, cutting off the man's cries sharply. 

Jack reloaded with a quick snap from Rhys’ mechanical arm and swung the barrel toward the charging skag, catching the beast right in the open mouth. The dying animal skidded to a halt at his feet and lay still, gurgling sounds coming up from its jaws.

Vaughn stared in disbelief and horror at his counterpart, shotgun still in Rhys’ clenched fist.

“Rhys….?” Vaughn stuttered terror rich in his voice.

With that the amber haired male turned to him, his left eye flickering from yellow back to vibrant blue. Suddenly the shotgun fell from Rhys’ grip, clattering to the ground as it came loose. Rhys stared at Vaughn for a moment, then his eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp. Rhys hit the ground with a heavy thud, landing in the bloody sand hard, and everything went black.

 


	4. You Look Like You've Seen a Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter is a little dark. :O

You Look Like You've Seen a Ghost 

Rhys’ eyes rolled beneath his lids, the sensation of weak light coming through to prod at his corneas. The young man whimpered and curled in on himself, fingers curling around the soft material of what he knew to be bed sheets. His fingers twitched around the worn material, bare toes curling and brushing against heavier comforters that had been shoved toward the end of the bed. His body teetered on the edge of sleep and awareness, everything in him fighting the onset of consciousness. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep so badly. His eyebrows furrowed together as he fought desperately to cling to what was left of his slumber. His human eye slatted open tiredly and rolled around the room, a long sigh coming forth from his body. He felt utterly broken, everything within him felt sore and bruised, like he’d been beaten to a pulp several times over. Rhys whined sharply as he tried to move his human arm, coming away with a heavy, sharp pain that ran deep into his muscles.

“S-Shit…” He cursed under his breath weakly, his eye closing once again, teeth gritting together hard.

Why the fuck was he so sore? Everything hurt. His echo eye, port, and robotic arm especially. There was a hollow sting clinging to the entire side of his skull where his port was located, a wicked throbbing that left him feeling sick to his stomach. Rhys swallowed down the urge to vomit and winced against the mattress he laid upon. His eyes closed harshly.

Wait…mattress? Rhys’ eyes broke open unwillingly.

Where was he anyway? His tired brain tried in vain to grasp onto any sort of memory but it was failing miserably. He remembered the bandits, and the guns, and the fear, and the utter feeling of helplessness….then Jack’s haunting laughter consuming his every corner, his every fiber. That laughter swam through his veins and his head and his every nerve. Rhys cringed slightly the sound of the Hyperion king’s laughter still so vivid in his head, rattling off every side of his skull. That was all he could make out though, before his mind had gone black and his body had failed him.

Now he was left with an aching body and mind, still wondering what the fuck had happened. It was an alien feeling, to know pieces were missing, yet he could not put them together. There were holes in his memory, holes he felt were most likely important, yet he couldn’t quite grab them. They were fuzzy, and blurred, as if he hadn’t experienced the events himself. Like he’d seen them through someone else’s eyes. The amber haired male groaned pitifully and continued to lay in a fetal position on the bed, just trying to will away the ache in his bones.

Suddenly Rhys’ ears perked to the sound of voices coming from somewhere near to him. His tired eyes shifted over and across the room, sweeping over the strange floral wallpaper and the old wood floors, until his pupils finally settled on the open door across from him. The old door was propped open by a misshapen piece of old lumber, giving passage into another dimly lit, adjoining room. Rhys’ eyes squinted, catching a small flicker of movement in the other space. A shadow passed across the doorway, the black mass flooding over Rhys for a moment before disappearing into the dark of the room. A small slice of light splayed across the bed where Rhys laid, illuminating the right half of his body with dim, lamplight. His echo eye shifted and focused with a mechanical drawl.

He knew that walk, the walk of the figure that had cast the shadow moments before. He’d know it anywhere.

The older of the con artist sisters sashayed across the room, hands folded across her chest in a defensive fashion.

“So you wanna try and explain what the hell happened to you two?” Fiona hissed her voice a mixture between concern and anger.

Her prying eyes settled harshly on the short man across from her, her lips down turning into a displeased frown.

Vaughn pushed his glasses back up his nose and looked at the taller woman with timid eyes. Vaughn sat in the old recliner of the second hotel room with his hands intertwined across his lap, his left shoe fidgeting nervously on the old wood flooring. The day had been a long one on all of them, Vaughn more so than anybody else. Finding the girls safely in Hollow Point had been a godsend, but it hadn’t changed what had happened back in the desert. It hadn’t changed anything. There had still been bloodshed on the sand in their wake.

Vaughn swallowed hard. He couldn’t seem to shake the scene from his head. He’d been replaying it over and over again, still unable to put two and two together, always left with the questions of why…and how? Rhys had never shot a gun in his life, Vaughn new this to be true. Frankly Guns scared the shit out of the lanky amber haired man. None of it made sense. Vaughn just couldn’t stop thinking about it all. The look in Rhys’ eyes as he’d raised that shotgun like it was something oh so familiar in his palms. He’d raised it without hesitation, without regret. He’d raised it and there had been a glint in the man’s eyes that Vaughn had never seen before, something wicked lurking behind normally soft, understanding orbs. There was something inhuman there. For a moment Vaughn could have sworn his eyes were yellow. Golden, like a predator’s, like wolf’s…a wolf showing it’s fangs for the very first time. Rhys had painted the sand in red, and never flinched, never recoiled. That wasn’t Rhys. Something about this entire thing wasn’t right. Something didn’t feel correct. Vaughn knew Rhys had been having some trouble with his echo eye, but could that really have been the cause for the man to snap? Vaughn sighed out long and low, his body seeming to sag a little in the old chair.

He looked to Fiona’s waiting glare and drew in a slow breath.

“I-I really don’t know how to explain it.” Vaughn whispered his voice strained and tired.

“Well you’re gunna have to try little man.” Came Sasha’s sudden, harsh voice, from the other corner of the room.

Vaughn looked at her hesitantly, his face hanging and exhausted, but in the same breath angered by the other woman’s tone.

“Look it’s been a long day, so don’t cop an attitude with me.” Vaughn snarled jabbing a finger through the air in Sasha’s direction.

Sasha stood up suddenly, shoving the flimsy chair out from under her, the hard legs scraping against the floor with a loud screech of wood on wood.

“Or what you Hyperion scum?” Sasha growled making to take a step before Fiona interrupted quickly.

“HEY! Both of you quit it! Look we’re all in this mess together, so you better freaking get friendly real god damned fast!” Fiona barked shooting fiery glares at both Vaughn and Sasha.

Sasha sunk back down into her seat with an irritable grumble and crossed her arms, choosing to focus her gaze out the window now instead of on the company in the room.

Fiona smoothed the front of her blouse and turned back to the frail looking accountant sitting before her. Most the color was gone from his face and his eyes were sunken in just a tad with the lack of proper sleep. She was concerned about him to say the least.

The way the two men had arrived in hollow point was unnerving. She and Sasha had arrived just as evening had hit, meeting with the mechanic named Scooter in hopes he could fix their caravan, which was in sad shape. The rumbling of a motor had ripped through the quite of the streets, echoing up into the night like some great beast. Fiona had only barely had time to turn and jog out the garage doors, Scooter right at her side, his shotgun already in hand and ready. A billowing cloud of dust had risen into the sky, joining with the roar of the engine. The squeal of tires had kissed her ears as the vehicle had come rushing toward them. Scooter pushed her back into the garage, behind him defensively, barking for her to get back as the massive bandit technical’s breaks locked up and it came to a screeching halt just outside the shop. As the dust had settled Scooter raised his shotgun, ready for whatever was coming out of the beastly vehicles door. He cocked the weapon loudly.

“You c’mon outta there ya bandit scum! Unless you wanna get yer asses shot to shit!” Scooter had yelled, his heavy with his hick accent, and a vicious warning.

The bandit technical’s door had slung open with a loud clang that echoed through Fiona’s ears and caused her to flinch. Scooter’s finger hovered the trigger of the Bandit weapon and his mouth came open to utter a second, and last warning.

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! Fiona it’s me! It’s Vaughn!” Came a shaky voice from inside the dark vehicle and Fiona had pushed past Scooter frantically, shoving down the barrel of the shotgun, taking the weapon’s aim off the doorway.

Vaughn had appeared in the mouth of the door, his face white as a sheet, his small frame struggling to drag an unresponsive Rhys from the vehicle’s confine. Fiona had whispered a small ‘oh god’ under her breath and her feet were instantly in motion. She flew to Vaughn’s side, frantic fingers touching over Rhys’ body, suddenly noticing he was absolutely covered in blood. His pants were stained dark with the deep red liquid, the smell of nickel clinging to the boy heavy and sickening.

“Vaughn what happened!? Where is he hurt!?” Fiona yelled to the small accountant her voice high and frightened.

Vaughn looked at her with shaking eyes, and in all honesty the young male looked like he could break down in tears at any second.

“He’s not! I-It’s not his blood! I don’t…I don’t know what happened….he passed out …I can’t wake him up!” Vaughn pleaded his voice shaky and scared.

Fiona looked at Vaughn with stern eyes.

“What do you mean it’s not his blood!? Then who’s is it Vaughn???” Fiona barked grabbing Vaughn by his shirt collar.

Vaughn made a frantic noise in his throat and whimpered pitifully.

“Who’s blood is it Vaughn!!???” Fiona bellowed shaking the scrawny man a little.

That’s when Scooter’s gentle hand had come to Fiona’s shoulder, shaking her out of her frantic trance.

“Hey Fiona, it’s ok, he looks pretty shaken up there…best not to push him yer now?” Scooter eased giving Fiona a concerned look.

Fiona had let go of Vaughn’s collar and sucked in a sharp breath.

“I’m…I’m sorry Vaughn.” Fiona whispered still kneeling on the vehicle steps, letting her hands fall by her sides in slight embarrassment.

Vaughn’s eyes were wet with unshed tears, his bottom lip buried in his teeth, and Fiona had felt even guiltier than before.

“C’mon…there…there’s an inn just around the block…let’s get a couple of rooms.” Fiona had breathed standing in a slight state of shock, her body moving in what seemed to be slow motion.

Though Fiona had tried, she couldn’t pry the information as to what had happened from Vaughn, and she couldn’t wake Rhys. So the day had become a waiting game. And so here they all were, confused, tired, and left in a completely wrecked state. Sasha was hostile, as to be expected, she was never good at handling situations like this. Whatever Vaughn and Rhys had seen out in that desert, it had left them both an utter mess.

Sasha closed the gap between her and Vaughn, leaning down slowly, rocking on the balls of her heels and taking Vaughn’s shaky hands in hers.

“Vaughn…we really need to know what happened back there.” Fiona tried again, her voice softer this time, pressing for the information gently.

Vaughn looked at her hesitantly and drew in a long breath, nodding his head slowly.

“Rhys and I had been wandering for a couple of days, trying to make it here actually…we were nearly out of food, and water…but…but we came across this oasis and…and…that’s where it all…it all happened…” Vaughn stuttered his eyes flicking to the dark room across from him and his voice lowering an octave.

Fiona squeezed his hand a little as if to silently let him know it was ok, that she was here for him.

“Rhys had been complaining that his echo eye had been acting up a little but I didn’t really think much of it. When we found the oasis, we ran into a couple of bandits that weren’t too pleased we were trespassing. They had these big guns, and this huge Skag and they were going to kill us…I…I thought we were going to die.” Vaughn wheezed his voice beginning to shake threateningly.

Vaughn’s eyes went to the room where Rhys slept for a second time, seeming to fear his friend could awaken at any second.

“B-But Rhys…I…I don’t know what happened. First I have a gun barrel to my head, then there’s gunshots and I turned expecting the worst…I expected to see Rhys dead…but he wasn’t..he…he was the one shooting. He shot them Fiona, in cold blood, he blew their brains out right in front of me! That isn’t Rhys! Rhys doesn’t _do_ things like that! Rhys doesn’t even know how to _shoot_ a gun! But he killed them! He killed them all! T-Then he just…he just…went limp…and I couldn’t wake him up…” Vaughn stuttered frantically his voice straining to stay low.

Sasha was up out of her seat then, peering into the dark room, then the Vaughn.

“The echo eye could be screwing with his brain Fiona. That’s dangerous shit.” Sasha growled her eyes narrowing over her sister.

Fiona let loose of a deep breath and rose from her kneeling position slowly.

“Rhys has never had an episode like that before?” Fiona questioned Vaughn sternly.

Vaughn shook his head.

“Not until after he stuck that data card into his port, ever since then his echo system has been on the fritz.” Vaughn whispered in a hushed manner.

“Is he dangerous?” Sasha hissed to her sister and Fiona looked into the joint room with hesitation.

“I don’t know. But we need to find someone who knows about Echo systems. If we don’t get that checked out…we could be on the other end of that shotgun barrel the next time around.” Fiona hissed lowly looking to Vaughn and then to Fiona.

Rhys’ eyes opened to full capacity, soaking in the droning voices with confusion and worry. His eyebrows knitted together as he attempted to lift himself from the mattress. What were they talking about? Something about Echo systems…and someone being dangerous, and being on the other end of a shotgun? Rhys’ face screwed up in confusion and he groaned out lowly, his slow brain trying to wrap around the conversation being had in the other room.

“They’re talking about you tiger. You’ve become a _threat_ to your little buddies kiddo. Look at that, they are actually… _scared_ of you.” An all too familiar static voice crackled across the back of his skull, swimming through his buzzing ears.

Rhys cringed away from the voice and shook his head.

“What? W-Why…? They’re afraid…of me?” Rhys whispered to the tone in his head, his mouth dry and his voice rough with lack of use.

There was a laugh that echoed off the deep confines of his overworked brain and rattled behind his eyes, right along the bone.

“Well…let me be a little more specific, they are actually afraid of _me_ but since I was in _your_ body they are all afraid of itsy bitsy little Rhysie. That’s real fucking cute pumpkin.” The voice snarled, becoming louder in Rhys’ head.

Rhys frowned hard.

Fiona? Sasha?...Vaughn? They were scared of him? But why? The blank space in Rhys’ memory was creating a void that he just couldn’t get around. Without that information he was left floundering for answers desperately.

A light chuckle breezed from one side of Rhys, to the other, seeming to echo of the walls of the room.

“Here cupcake, lemme help you out with the missing pieces.” Came Jack’s sultry voice against his tender lobe.

Rhys could just barely see the flicker of Jack’s hologram out of the corner of his echo eye. With that Jack was wrapping his lips around Rhys’ port, tongue coming to skirt around the entrance diligently. Rhys cried out as a sharp pain jolted through him and suddenly his brain was on fire with images that seemed so familiar yet so distant.

The stealing of the bandit’s shotgun, the turning it around, the harsh kick of the gun against his shoulder, the sound of a skull being blown apart at point blank range. Rhys felt his stomach churn as his eyes widened. The thud of a body against sand, the wet sensation of blood splattering over his bare skin, his hands working to cock the gun and unload a second shot. The shot was so loud, leaving his ears ringing and throbbing. The sight of guts on the ground, spilling out so red and fresh and slick. He’d never seen human entrails before, he’d never heard screams like that before. Dying screams. Begging screams. Gurgling as the man threw up blood down his front. Another shot, this time to the man’s head. More brain, more blood, but no more screaming. There was the thudding of great paws on the dry dirt, the roar of an animal four times his size. He swiveled, his body just knowing what to do even when he didn’t. The gun raised and the gun fired, dropping a third body into the sand. Death lay rampant around him, the sand painted so brilliantly red with his wrath. But was it him? It didn’t feel like him. Inside it felt like him, but there was something else there, there was something _more._ The outside wasn’t him. The motions, the killing…that wasn’t…him.

“Of course not sweet cheeks…because it was _me._ ” Jack’s smooth voice kissed at Rhys’ ears as the hologram leaned over the bed and tilted his head at the younger male.

Jack’s grin was vicious and frightening as Rhys looked up at him with fearful eyes.

“Y-Y-You….?” Rhys stuttered finally forcing his aching body to sit up straight, pain shooting through his spine like lightening.

Jack leaned in closer, invading the boy’s personal space harshly, grin widening across his slender features. Jack’s eyes flickered with something truly evil at that moment, something truly malicious. There was poison and bad intentions behind those narrowed eyes, and it shook fear down into Rhys’ very bones.

“You got it pumpkin. I…am you…and you…are me, and I can control this body…just like you can.” Jack snarled the corner of his mouth twitching up as the beginnings of fierce laughter bubbled up from the CEO’s chest.

“N-n-no…..n-no….” Rhys whispered his mouth opening and closing in shock and utter disbelief.

Jack’s laughter was coming harder now, louder and more diabolical. Jack leaned back off the bed and thrust his arms out in a playful fashion.

“Oh yes, yes, yes. Rhysie this little living arrangement of ours just got a whole lot more interesting don’t you think?” Jack cooed flickering out of sight, then re-appearing just in front of Rhys, his holographic hand curling around Rhys’ chin.

Rhys shied away helplessly, his eyes wide with fear, all the color having left his slender face.

“Oh what’s the matter Rhysie? You look…like you’ve seen a ghost.” Jack chortled before flickering from view, his booming laughter echoing all around the room, bouncing off every space, every crevice, surrounding Rhys in constant sound. It was everywhere, consuming Rhys, invading him, only causing the panic set in his gut to become that much more prominent.

Rhys let loose of a frantic scream, his body coming backward off the bed and his metal shoulder hitting the floor hard. The smell of the bandit’s blood swam through his senses, the sight of their broken bodies, the gurgling sounds of them dying all swirling with Jack’s maniacal laughter. Before Rhys could stop it his stomach was twisting, he was coughing and then gagging, vomiting up what little contents he had left in his stomach onto the hotel room floor. He never heard the thudding of feet hurrying to his side, he barely noticed the frantic hands shaking his shoulder and the familiar voices asking him is he was ok over and over again.

He was losing control of his own body…and he could do nothing about it.


	5. Sharing With a Spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love torturing poor Rhys way too damn much. I mean what could you expect with a blood thirsty ex-President floating around in his head? Jack is enjoying the new little development over body control wayyyyy too much. ;)

Sharing with a Spirit

 

Rhys looked into the old mirror with disdained eyes. His hands pressed flush against the slightly cracked bathroom counter that maybe ten years ago had been pristine white in coloration. But time had not been kind to it, much like it had not been kind to anything else on this god forsaken planet. The counter was left a dingy grey color with the year’s wearing and weathering. Too many hands having run across the surface, too many objects having been scraped across it, and too many hard things settled on its surface. It was left decorated with scratches and scars, beatings and bruises. So many cracks to its once pretty surface. Rhys stared down at it with empty eyes, seeing all the impurities, pausing far too long on the thought of how he felt just like this countertop. Shattered. Old. Tired. Discolored. Sad.

The amber haired man swallowed dryly, his throat flexing around the action, his tongue pressing against the backs of his teeth uselessly. His eyes flicked up to the reflection staring back at him from the mirror’s surface. Rhys let a hiss of breath pass through his teeth with a low whistle. He hardly even recognized the sad, disgusting, dirty thing staring eye to eye with him. It might have been him, at one point in time…maybe…but now it wasn’t. Not fully anyway. His hair was in disarray, having come loose from its normal gelled position, falling limply over his forehead. His eyes were sunken in, dark circles clinging to them like unwanted guests, the whites of his eyes were bloodshot and absolutely wrecked. He looked like death itself, like something that had literally rolled right out of the grave and had come back to life. Rhys drew in a shaky breath and brought his hands up to his face, his cheekbones were more prominent than he remembered, and his lips were so chapped they cracked open any time he so much as moved them. He ran his thumb across his tattered bottom lip slowly, the soft pad bringing a momentary relief to his mouth. His fingers traced up the left side of his head, up, and up and up…until they lingered just below the opening of his port. The fucking thing that had started it all. He had never felt so very betrayed…by his own god damned body. A body that in all reality wasn’t even his to call his own anymore. No. Now he was just one half to a whole. He was just a piece in this little freak show, no longer the whole thing. He just existed….existed in this little adventure that had turned into a Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde Nightmare.

He ran his index finger around the mouth of the port, wincing a little as his finger touched the sensitive robotics. He suddenly wondered how much it would hurt to dig the thing out. How badly would it hurt to rip it out of his skull, taking all its mechanics with it.

Rhys shook his head in dismay. That would only kill him. That port was connected to his fucking skull, there was no _taking it out_. But then again he’d known that when he’d gone under the knife to have it put in. It was a onetime deal. Once it was done, it was done, and that was that. Now he just had to live with it and all the damage it had done. All the damage he had done. Rhys pressed his finger into the port harshly, a sharp shooting pain running through his skull like electricity. Fuck it hurt, it hurt so fucking badly. He didn’t care. He just wanted to feel it. Jab it, hurt it, the way it had hurt him. Rhys cried out meekly and ripped his finger away, slamming his fist down on the countertop harshly.

Rhys’ eyes went back to the man in the mirror that he did not recognize. This time, he wasn’t alone. Rhys didn’t even startle as his eyes settled on the blue ghost hanging upside down in the mirror’s reflection, grinning back at him with a venomous smile.

“Y’know jabbing your finger in there and trying to dig me out totally isn’t gunna work cupcake.” Jack quipped tilting his head playfully in his precarious floating position.

Rhys just stared forward, eyes watching the phantom as he lingered in the mirror, lips tight and unmoving. Jack pouted at the other male’s silence and flipped upright, floating down until his feet met with the old wood flooring of the nasty little bathroom.

“Oh c’mon Rhysie don’t be like that! This is a good development for us! Really it is! You don’t see it that way yet, buuuuut you will. You will…truuuuust me pumpkin.” Jack cooed in that sickeningly sing song voice of his as he did a large, slow circle around his counterpart, phasing carelessly through the sink, halfway through the wall, then eventually standing in the walk in shower.

Rhys gritted his teeth together and clamped his robotic hand around the counter so hard it was starting to crack the marble just a tad.

“How in the _fuck_ is this a good development?” Rhys snarled turning wildly on the hologram behind him.

Jack brought his fingers to his chin and rolled his eyes around dramatically, as if deep in extremely important thought.

“Oh lemme see here…you won’t be such a big, giant, embarrassing dweeb all the time that’s for damn sure. Oh AND when I take my throne at Hyperion back, you’ll get a piece of that too. You know cause it’s me and you. We’re in this together, you’ll be king, I’ll be king…I mean mostly me, but you’ll be there too. You and me kid, we are gunna be friggin' _unstoppable.”_ Jack hissed moving his hands with the words, flickering closer to Rhys suddenly, just close enough for the man to flinch away with unease.

Jack stuck his bottom lip out at the younger man.

“Rhysieeeee c’mon stop that. We’re pals kid. Hell we are _closer_ than pals. We’re on the same wave length here, same body, same mind. I can help you go straight to the top, just what you’ve always wanted right? Right?” Jack swooned hovering his lips all too close to Rhys’.

Rhys said nothing still, his jaw clenched firmly shut, his eyes adverting Jack’s venomous orbs diligently.

“Just imagine how good that big comfy chair is gunna feel. Just imagine how great it will be to look down on Pandora and know that you _own_ it. Just picture blowing that shit head Vasquez’s brains out all over his office floor, because we can _totally_ do that if you want.” Jack sniggered his lips curling up into a wicked grin that was haunting to say the least.

“Not like this…” Rhys whispered suddenly, his voice shaky and strained.

Jack’s expression fell from playful to confused in all of about two seconds.

“What was that cupcake? Couldn’t quite hear ya.” Jack snarled his tone warning and vicious.

Rhys looked Jack’s hologram dead in the eye, his eyebrows furrowed together meanly.

“I wanted to move up to the top…but…I didn’t want to do it like this.” Rhys said louder this time, his voice gaining just a smidge more confidence as it left his cracked lips.

Jack’s face was clearly displeased as he looked over his defiant host with shifty, contemplating eyes.

“You know, I’m surprised at you kiddo. For such a Handsome Jack obsessed little worm, you sure are throwing a fit about having help from me.” Jack snarled shortly.

Rhys took a step back from the overbearing hologram and balled up his fists.

“I never asked for your help! I never asked for this!” Rhys nearly yelled, jabbing his mechanical finger at Jack his whole body shaking with rage.

Jack eased his body closer to the half cybernetic man, tapping a finger to the robotic arm, causing Rhys to yelp and jerk it away.

“Yeah well too friggin' bad kiddo, and to tell you the truth I _really_ don’t like that attitude you’re spitting at me right now sweet cheeks.” Jack hissed wagging a painfully slow finger in Rhys’ direction.

Rhys snarled at the hologram distastefully, eyes darting down to the floor than back to the phantom lingering unpleasantly close to him.

Jack swept hollow fingers through hollow hair and sighed out long and slow.

“Look, kiddo, you are going about this all wrong. Think about the power, think about the wealth, think about what’s best for _us._ ” Jack hissed stepping forward and hovering a finger over Rhys’ jaw suggestively.

Rhys looked away timidly, anger and bile rising in his throat.

“You’re turning my own friends on me! They think I’m a fucking monster because of you-because of what _you_ did!” Rhys snarled his back bumping up against the back wall of the bathroom with a small thud.

Jack seemed to get some sick sort of amusement out of the other male’s reaction and snickered darkly.

“Let’s remember that I saved you cupcake, and by the way I never even got a proper thank you for that.” Jack hissed lowly.

“You can’t just take over my body any time you want Jack!! This is MY body!!” Rhys yelled suddenly, small tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

With that Jack was right up in Rhys’ face, nearly nose to nose with him.

“This is OUR body Rhys, and I can do whatever I damn well want because I _own_ you. You are _mine_ Rhys, make no mistake about that.” Jack bellowed his voice booming through Rhys’ tender ears and swarming around his senses.

Before Rhys could scream Jack thrust his index finger into Rhys’ already sore port, the hot sensation of electricity streaming through him, his vision blackening like a light bulb having blown. When Rhys’ eyes parted again it was an all too familiar feeling he’d so recently become acquainted to. He was a spectator to his own fucking body. Rhys wanted to be furious, he wanted to yell and kick and scream, but all he could hope to feel…was exhausted. He was tired and lethargic as he watched Jack take his body and do with it whatever he wished. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. He simply watched with lazy eyes as he body was taken.

Jack stumbled a little, bracing his hands on the countertop weakly, fingers curling experimentally on the surface. He brought Rhys’ mechanical arm up in front of his face and flexed all the robotically jointed fingers, swiveling his palm and getting a good look at the echo implant there.

“Shit this is really weird.” Jack husked trying to gain a little more balance as he pushed off the counter and steadied on his own two feet.

He looked down over his stolen body with bright vicious eyes, the echo orb glowering yellow and predatory. He ran his hands down his bare front slowly, touching over his chest, abdomen, stomach then finally hitching his thumbs in the belt loops of whatever pant’s Rhys had decided to throw on. The kid really had no fashion sense. Jack would fix that sooner or later.

Rhys could hear Jack’s thoughts echoing through his brain, like slow, distant whispers, slightly fuzzy at first but gaining quickly in clarity.

Rhys seemed to gain a little more consciousness, his eyes widening, his thought process coming to him all at once.

“Jack! W-What are you doing!?” Rhys pleaded helplessly, only able to watch as Jack poked and prodded at his body carelessly.

Jack shrugged up Rhys’ shoulders.

“I need to figure out how long I can take over before you get too weak and your body rejects me. That’s what happened the last time. I’m hoping I can ride this out a little longer this go round.” Jack whispered smiling.

It was otherworldly to hear his voice coming from the lips of the younger man, and even stranger to see his limbs move as he told them to, limbs that weren’t his. Only borrowed, but it was him, for the most part. Jack cracked Rhys’ neck to the side and shook his hair a little, overly pleased that the new body was all in working order. Jack traced his finger over the blue tattoos scribed up Rhys’ bare chest, then up over his temple, tapping on the echo port there.

Jack flinched and retracted his hand almost instantly.

“Ow, jeezus! That shit does really hurt…” Jack hissed shaking his head and trying to blink away the stinging ache in his skull.

Rhys cringed internally.

“Yeah it does! Now stop touching that!” Rhys whined from the back of Jack’s skull.

“Huh so feeling pain is apparently a thing when I take over…I wonder what else I can..feel…” Jack snarled cocking up an eyebrow coyly.

Rhys felt a twinge of fear trickle down his spine at Jack’s sly words.

“Jack…Jack…what are you…what are you…doing?” Rhys whispered only being able to watch as Jack slowly undid the front of his pants, drawing the zipper down without hurry.

Jack only grinned wryly at Rhys’ concern and shoved his pants down in one fluid motion, and stepping out of them, until he was left standing in only Rhys’ Hyperion yellow boxers, the company logo printed down the side.

Jack cocked his head at the reflection in the mirror and chortled loudly.

“That’s real cute pumpkin.” Jack quipped gesturing toward the boxers halfheartedly.

Rhys frowned in embarrassment.

“S-Shut-up…” Rhys whined lowly.

Jack sneered then looked down his borrowed body, fingers coming to play along the ruffled hem of the boxers gently.

“Now…let’s see what little Rhysie has below the belt shall we?” Jack sniggered darkly, sliding his fingers down into the underwear and pushing them down around his thighs.

Jack cocked his head to the side and grinned wider as his eyes drawled over Rhys’ flaccid cock.

“Not bad cupcake. Not bad at all. I mean…not as big as what _I’m_ used to but well I’m in no position to complain.” Jack jabbed meanly, shoving the garments the rest of the way down and kicking them off gently.

Jack’s wandering fingers ran through the coarse amber hairs running from his naval to his groin and expelled a long breath through his teeth. Jack seemed to contemplate for a moment, then turned to the walk in shower, his lips twitching up at the sight.

“You really are a mess kiddo, first things first, we need to start taking better care of this body cupcake.” Jack hissed sternly turning on the hot water and letting the shower stream warm up.

Jack stepped into the water gently, sighing loudly at the feeling of the warm liquid running down his body. He could feel all the aches, all the pains of Rhys’ body. He could feel every bruise and every sore muscle, it was an alien feeling…going from feeling absolutely nothing, to feeling fucking _everything._ Jack groaned out loudly and ran his hands through the amber locks that were now his, he could feel Rhys’ body reacting to his invasion. He could feel his heart thudding against his chest, he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He could feel Rhys’ warmth in the back of his head, a strange sensation right there pressing into every one of his thoughts.

“Jack please…this…this doesn’t feel right.” Rhys pleaded desperately.

Jack rotated his shoulder blades casually and let a small hum slip past his lips, turning in the water slowly, allowing the water to hit his back. His yellow and brown eyes slatted into small slits, simply allowing his body to ease into the warmth of the shower’s stream.

“Oh Rhysie don’t be such a stick in the mud kiddo.” Jack swooned leaning hard on the tile shower wall his back pressing into the firm surface.

“Jack…” Rhys begged his voice echoing across Jack’s skull.

Jack pressed his finger to his lips and shushed the voice in his head softly.

“Ah, tut, tut, tut, Rhysie why don’t you just sit back and relax pumpkin.” Jack snarled thickly.

Rhys groaned out in dismay, feeling every movement, feeling the warmth of the water of the body that was no longer his.

“This feels…really wrong…” Rhys hissed into Jack’s ear, pushing uncomfortable pressure onto the back of Jack’s skull.

Jack winced a little at the new pressure and tried to will it away, he couldn’t have Rhys coming back into control, not just yet.

“Because you aren’t giving it a chance sweet cheeks.” Jack husked letting his borrowed fingers wander down his abdomen gently.

It felt so good to just…feel again…he wanted to feel it all…all that he hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity. He wanted to feel _everything_.

“Jack…Jack! Stop!” Rhys yelled in Jack’s ear, but Jack shook it away.

Jack’s fingers curled around the flaccid cock before him, running slick fleshed fingers over the head swiftly.

Rhys’ complaint swiftly choked into a muffled moan, the sudden advancement coursing through his veins like fire. Rhys felt his body lull and pulse as Jack stroked him to life, cock now rigid and thick in the borrowed fingers.

Jack pressed harder into the tile wall, letting a low moan slide past his grit teeth as he felt himself swelling in his own palm, throbbing with blood, with arousal. _Real_ arousal, not something he could only feel in a dream state. Not something he could only feel through Rhys. This was something he could feel…for himself. Jack let his mismatched eyes fall closed gently, heavy lids falling over earth and gold colored orbs. His hand slid up his livid erection, skin bundling at the top of his fist with the upstroke. Jack sighed out shakily and pressed a firm thumb into his underside, rolling the digit in small circles.

“F-Fuck…” Jack husked arching into his own grip.

It had been such a long fucking time since he’d felt the all too fantastic ache of needed release. It had been way too fucking long. All Rhys could do was watch, watch in horror and in awe as Jack took over his body and made him feel things he didn’t want to. He was so angry and sick and confused, he didn’t want to feel pleasure. But he couldn’t block it out, it swam through his every vein, his every nerve. A warm, glowing heat that spread up through his groin and out through his entire body. Rhys let loose of an involuntary moan that tickled across the back of Jack’s brain.

Jack grinned thickly, all his pearly teeth on display, twisting Rhys’ mouth into a smile more wicked than anything the boy could ever dream to muster.

“There we go kiddo, seems you are a little more on board with this now huh?” Jack husked darkly, tightening his grip of his erection, spreading a small tear of wept pre-cum out over his rosy head.

Rhys gritted his teeth so hard they hurt, screwing his eyes shut, wishing he could somehow just be unconscious for all of this.

“I can’t…I can’t stop….from feeling it…” Rhys hissed his body swimming with a confusing mixture of pleasure and discomfort.

Jack chuckled darkly at Rhys’ commentary.

“Then don’t try to pumpkin. Just enjoy it.” Jack groaned lowly, the pace of his palm quickening as the need in his gut swelled into a persistent wildfire.

Jack could feel Rhys lulling into the feeling, both of their consciousness coming together as one, Rhys no longer pushing and protesting the actions. Jack’s chest heaved with every thick breath, his body suddenly so hot and pleasant, his thighs stiffening with the onset of pleasure.

“H-Holy shit…” Jack moaned his voice coming forth louder than he’d really meant it to.

Jack brought the borrowed robotic arm to his heaving abdomen, the cool touch of the fingers shocking and exhilarating all in one breath. Every sensation came together in one explosion of color and feeling and sound. Rhys moaned loudly, the sound echoing through Jack and Jack arched, the other male’s voice like honey and velvet as it washed over him.

“That’s it Rhys, moan for me…” Jack snarled through slack jaw, leaning his head back against the wet tile in ecstasy.

His tender, soft fingers stroked frantically up his livid member, stroking more moans and curses from his own lungs. The fingers felt foreign around him, more soft and a lot smaller than his own, the member he stroked was alien too, sensitive in different ways, needing attention in different areas, more pressure, less pressure, it was all new territory to him. Because it wasn’t his, it was all a new toy for him, right out of the plastic packaging, all shiny and pristine. Jack buried his lip between his teeth until it stung, leaving the anatomy worried and red with the abuse. Jack cupped his testes with the cold robotic fingers, giving due attention to the forgotten anatomy, the cold sensation causing them to pull away from the touch.

Jack hissed through gnashed teeth, the sound coming out as more of a whistle than anything else. Everything around him quickly deteriorated into a frantic race to finish, he could feel Rhys beginning to push and pull once more, the pounding in the back of his head growing stronger, and he was not about to lose control without getting his finish.

Jack’s feet sprawled across the slick shower floor, palm hurried and tight, wringing up his cock in a furious pace. Everything was so fucking hot, thick flush painting across his slender cheeks, flooding down his arched neck. Jack groaned out weakly, feeling orgasm nipping just at his heels, he was so fucking close. Jack moaned out louder, and louder, voice heady and thick as it echoed through the shower. Jack’s fist was slick with pre-cum and water, hurried squelching sounds coming from his fist as he stroked roughly.

Jack pushed against the wall harder, everything below his abdomen going rigid for a moment. His mouth hung open in a weak oval, face screwed up into an expression of utter concentration. The stiffness rolled down his lower half, over his thighs, his cock growing harder, swelling thicker for a moment…and then he was coming. Thick ropes of ejaculation spilling out over curled fingers, his cock spending itself all over the shower wall and floor. Jack slumped backward a little as he rode out his finish, fist still halfheartedly pumping his shaft as its dispenses waned in power, eventually reducing to a weak dribble of white fluid running down over his shaft and fingers. Jack stood there for a moment, hand stilling on his softening cock, breath coming in short, shallow pants, eyes still closed in exhaustion.

With that he could hold on no longer, he was too tired, his reign spent and used up. Rhys felt his body go limp for a second, but this time he was able to catch it. He was ready as Jack lost control and he regained it. Rhys could feel himself flood back into his own body as the phantom left it for him, his back sliding down the shower wall until his rear end collided with the tile flooring. Rhys sat still in a state of disbelief, his chest still heaving, all the aftermath of orgasm being forced upon him when it hadn’t even been him to cause it. Rhys thudded the back of his head against the wall and let his arms fall limply at his sides. His body felt so heavy, so abused, so strange and unnatural. He could feel Jack stirring somewhere deep within his brain, but he was just a whisper, weak and gentle resting there.

Rhys was overly glad for that. Glad to have his body to himself even if it was just for a moment. Even if it was just for a second. At least he had this small window of time to collect himself, to really wrap his head around what all just happened. He felt like an overworked puppet, so loose and heavy.

All Rhys could possibly be thankful for in that moment, was that Jack hadn’t chosen to use his small window of control to hurt Rhys or any of his friends. That was a victory…however small in substance. Rhys looked down at his feet, watching as the water sprayed over the bare flesh then scampered down the silver drain rapidly. Rhys breathed out slowly.

There was no instruction manual for this. There was no handbook on such a fucking absurd situation. His body was not his own anymore. His body was not his own…

 


	6. Let Me Tell You a Ghost Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a tad short, but I felt it was important to have a scene where Rhys finally confesses to Vaughn what is really going on. I really love the relationship between Rhys and Vaughn, and I feel like they are really loyal friends to each other. So this is sorta touchy feely, buy I felt it was crucial!

Let Me Tell You a Ghost Story

When Rhys exits the bathroom and makes his way unsteadily back into the hotel bedroom, he feels even more shitty than he did when he originally went in there to ‘calm himself down and clean himself up’. He’d gotten the cleaning himself up part right, he no longer smelled like skag shit and vomit thanks to the forceful shower he’d been dragged into, so he guessed that was a small victory. Rhys eased himself down onto the bed with a great sigh. His body was even more tired than it had been before. He just felt so…heavy. Much to his relief Jack really seemed to have worn himself out and he lay silent in Rhys’ skull. Just a tangible warmth in the back of his brain, still there yes, but much less…obvious. Rhys sighed and ran a slow hand through his damp hair. He was a wreck, inside and out that was for damn sure.

Suddenly there was a light, gentle knocking on the half closed door to his left. Rhys’ eyes flicked up to the door and then down to his naked state.

“Uh who is it? I’m not really decent…” Rhys muttered his voice hoarse and jagged as it came from his tongue.

“Hey it’s me bro.” Came Vaughn’s soft, gentle voice.

Rhys sighed out loudly and let his shoulders fall a little.

“Yeah…c’mon in I guess…” Rhys whispered looking down at his bare feet.

Vaughn slowly pried the door open with a long creak of age old hinges that were in desperate need of replacement. He peered inside slowly his eyes peeking out over thick glasses. He seemed to breathe out a little as his obviously nervous eyes swept over Rhys’ form. Rhys’ eyes met with his best friends and Vaughn offered him a weak, obviously forced smile. There was nothing to smile about. Not in this situation. Not here. There would be no smiles here.

The two friend’s just looked at each other for a moment, as if they had never met before in all their lifetimes. This was what Jack had done to them, he’d made strangers out of friends and it was all his fault. This was his mess he’d made and Rhys was paying for it dearly. Rhys frowned darkly, sadness washing over him like ice water. Vaughn was afraid as he stood there in the door frame. He was afraid…of _Rhys._ Rhys swallowed thickly, feeling as if he was downing burs with each hard swallow. His throat stung and clenched with the onset of utter defeat. Jack was winning…and Rhys was losing everything. His sanity, his friends, his free will, it was all going and he could only watch. Watch with helpless hands and distressed eyes. It wasn’t fair, Rhys thought desperately. None of this was fair. He’d never wished for this, to become _this_. A host for a parasite that was eventually going to eat him alive. He suddenly wondered if there would come a day when he was no longer even there, if there would come a day when it would all be Jack, and he would merely be a small voice buried far back in the mind of a monster. Jack would take his body and his life and he would make it his, and Rhys would be left with nothing at all. Jack would turn Rhys into the perfect puppet, and would there come a time when Rhys was no longer needed? Jack didn’t need him. He just needed his body. Rhys knew that now. The man he’d idolized his whole life, the man he’d lusted after, the man he’d based his entire life on…was going to be the death of him. Literally. The thought was utterly terrifying.

Vaughn looked at Rhys with hurt eyes, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and worry. Rhys looked horrid, like some poor thing that had been dragged through the mud one too many times. His whole body outwardly sagged, his eyes sunken in pathetically, his lips quivering just slightly. Vaughn couldn’t help but to feel a little sick as he looked over his best friend. He had no idea what was going on and therefore he didn’t even know how to help. Vaughn always knew how to help when it came to Rhys. That was just the way things were. He always knew just what to do. But not now…now he was at a loss for what action to take. Was Rhys really losing it? It really seemed so in all honestly.

“Hey bro…how…how are you feeling?” Vaughn asked timidly, his voice slightly shaky as he took a wary step toward Rhys.

Rhys looked to him with sad eyes and shook his head slowly.

“Not good man. Not good.” Rhys whispered lowly, his fingers gripping the edge of the bed hard.

Vaughn bit his lip a little and stalled his forward trek toward where his friend sat.

Rhys could sense the hesitation in Vaughn’s movements. The other man was worried he would have an episode and turn on him, that was the cause of the other man’s wary movements. That fact hurt Rhys more than he could have ever imagined. He didn’t want his best friend to fear him. He didn’t want him to be afraid of him. But here they were.

“I’m ok Vaughn…I’m not going to hurt you or anything…” Rhys hissed lowly the words coming out like gasoline.

Vaughn seemed to tense up at the declaration from Rhys and slowly made his way over to the bed, sinking down next to the amber haired male, the mattress dipping with the new weight.

“Man I-I didn’t mean it like that…I just…” Vaughn stuttered uselessly.

Rhys held up his hand weakly to stop his counterpart’s mumbling.

“It’s ok Vaughn…I understand. You’re scared. I’d be scared of me too.” Rhys whispered his voice low and full of utter sadness.

Vaughn’s face scrunched up in a look of pain as Rhys spoke. He shook his head slowly and rested his hands on his knees, slumping over the bed just slightly. Vaughn opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to decided against the action and pressed his glasses up his nose irritably. He just couldn’t find the words. Rhys didn’t blame him. What words were there for something like this? There wasn’t.

“Rhys…what’s going on man…” Vaughn said finally, his words coming out meek and worried.

Rhys drew in a long breath, his lungs expanding to their fullest before he expelled the intake of air through his grit teeth. He wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him everything. He _needed_ to tell him everything. Vaughn was in very real danger, he deserved to know why at the very least. They all thought this problem was caused by Rhys’ echo eye acting up, Vaughn needed to know the truth. If there was ever a time to do it, it would be now, while Jack was too weak to protest by taking over. Rhys’ eyes flicked to Vaughn suddenly, his expression changing from something sad to something very, very serious.

“Vaughn there is something I need to tell you…” Rhys said suddenly his voice dark and scared.

Vaughn looked at Rhys with wide eyes, his pupils searching over Rhys’ features, for what he wasn’t sure of. There was a glint of terror in the taller man’s eyes, a glint that in turn instilled fear into Vaughn’s heart. There was something very wrong here, he could smell it in the air, the fumes radiating off his counterpart heavily. Rhys was hiding something, something dark. Vaughn was suddenly unsure if he really wanted to know the truth. He suddenly wasn’t sure if he could handle whatever was about to come forth from Rhys’ mouth.

“Please don’t think I’m insane…ok?” Rhys hissed closing his eyes for just a tad longer than a standard blink, his face pained and unsure.

Vaughn frowned at Rhys his eyes soft and sad.

“Rhys look we’ve known each other a long time…I’m here for you bro…I can tell something is really wrong with you…I mean the episodes you’ve been having…that isn’t normal…the way you handled those bandits…you…you killed them Rhys…” Vaughn whispered slowly the fear prominent in his meek voice.

Vaughn had every right to be afraid. Rhys was afraid too. The way the shorter accountant acted you would have thought he was sitting next to a wild Stalker that could turn and eat him at any given second. Honestly a Stalker would have been a lot safer than the monster he sat next to right now. At least a Stalker would make it quick, and painless. The monster inside of Rhys was meaner than that, he was _crueler_ than that. The monster inside of Rhys lived for pain, he lived to make others _suffer._

Rhys gritted his teeth together hard, the bones in his jaw clamping shut until it ached. His fingers clamped over his knees hard, nails digging in until it became uncomfortable.

“That wasn’t me Vaughn. I didn’t do that. I didn’t murder those people…” Rhys whispered quickly, ever word feeling like fire on his tongue.

He was playing an utterly dangerous game now. A game of life and death and wits and wills. Jack could regain consciousness at any second, and Rhys knew for a fact that even if he stayed silent for the amount of time it took to tell Vaughn his dark secret…Jack would find out later. Either way Rhys was playing with fire and he was eventually going to get burned, whether it be sooner, or later. But he had to do this. He had to.

“What? But Rhys I uh…I saw you…it was you…” Vaughn mumbled confusion painting across his cheeks thickly.

Rhys shook his head insistently.

“I know what it looked like. But it _wasn’t_ me….it was…him…” Rhys whispered cradling his head in his hands woefully.

Vaughn’s face screwed up in confusion and discomfort at the other man’s words. Now Rhys really knew how insane it actually sounded out loud. It sounded insane in his head, but god was it a million times worse when it actually came out of his lips.

Vaughn looked to Rhys uncomfortably, obviously hoping there would be a follow up to the awkward statement. Rhys sighed loudly and willed himself to continue. He had already began digging his grave, might as well make it big enough to lie comfortably in.

“When I plugged Nakayama’s memory card into my port it didn’t just give me all his data…there was something…else in it. Something horrid…” Rhys began his voice strained as he tried to find the right words to explain all this insanity.

“Nakayama created this…this…copy of Handsome Jack. Like an AI. It talks like Jack, it walks like Jack, it IS Jack…in so many fucking ways it’s unbearable.” Rhys hissed, clenching his fists at the mere thought of the diabolical madman lodged deep in his brain waves.

“So when I plugged that card in…that AI…became attached, to me. Like a parasite. I can see him, most the time, like a ghost he comes and goes and phases in and out. Sometimes he’s just a voice, other times he’s a full body hologram that only I can see. He can hear my thoughts, invade my dreams, and rather recently…he’s discovered how to take over my body.” Rhys strained his voice threatened with the onset of tears.

“First it was just my arm…then…then my whole body. He can possess me, and _be_ me…but it isn’t me, it’s him, abusing _my_ body!” Rhys cried pressing his palms against his sockets trying to fight back the heavy sobs that wanted to come forth.

Vaughn’s face fell in distress and he scooted a little closer to the now pathetically sobbing man. His small hand came to run over Rhys’ back and to his dismay Rhys flinched harshly at the touch, as if he’d been set on fire. Vaughn ignored it and stroked his hand down between Rhys’ shoulder blades.

“Hey..Rhys…it’s ok…it’s ok…” Vaughn whispered trying to comfort his best friend feebly.

Rhys shook his head violently.

“N-No it isn’t ok. Jack can take over whenever he wants, he _murdered_ those bandits! He could murder other people just as easily, all while using me as his hands to do it!” Rhys cried looking to Vaughn suddenly his face stained with wetness, his eyes becoming increasingly redder with tears.

“So he sort of…saved us from those bandits?” Vaughn questioned slowly.

“Only because he can’t let me die. If I die, he dies. He’d do anything to keep me alive….he needs me as his puppet…without a body he’s just an AI again.” Rhys whispered sniffling loudly, wiping his nose on the heel of his hand.

Vaughn nodded understandingly.

“I just…I just had to tell you…I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer…he tried to make me keep it a secret…but you needed to know…just in case…just in case I turn on you..” Rhys whispered his eyes shifting over Vaughn’s horrified face.

“I just needed you to know it’s not me doing this…you believe me don’t you?” Rhys whispered slowly.

“I…I believe you Rhys.” Vaughn breathed in disbelief, still trying to swallow down the hard pill of the information he’d been fed.

“So why isn’t he doing anything now…I’m sure he’s upset you’re telling me right?” Vaughn questioned slowly.

Rhys shrugged his shoulders up.

“He’s really weak from taking me over earlier, he’s testing the limits of it, seeing how long he can stay in control before my body rejects him…that’s why I’m telling you now. Because I knew..he couldn’t hurt you when I told you this…” Rhys whispered.

Vaughn nodded and massaged two fingers in circles on his temple.

“Shit Rhys…this is really fucked up…. _really_ fucked up.” Vaughn whispered shaking his head and closing his eyes.

“Vaughn…” Rhys said suddenly.

“Yeah Rhys?” Vaughn replied.

“Don’t tell the girls. I don’t think they would take to this well.” Rhys whispered.

Vaughn looked to him with wide eyes.

“Rhys they have to know what the fuck is going on…” Vaughn retorted sternly.

“Vaughn they would kill me. If they knew what was going on, they would just kill me. That’s the easiest way of getting rid of Jack…” Rhys hissed fear settled deep in his wide eyes.

Vaughn sighed outwardly and ran a hand through his hair.

“Ok. I won’t tell them. But Fiona knows someone she thinks you should see. An old friend that’s really good with tech stuff. Fiona seems to think he can help with whatever is going on in your echo eye….maybe he can fix what’s _really_ going on.” Vaughn offered the suggestion softly.

Rhys nodded slowly.

“Jack isn’t going to like that.” Rhys whispered slowly burying his face in his hands again.

“We don’t have much choice…we have to fix this Rhys, I’m here no matter what. We’ll fix this. Ok?” Vaughn reassured softly, his hand never leaving Rhys’ back.

Rhys looked to him with empty, unsure eyes.

“Ok.” Rhys whispered softly.

“Ok.”


	7. Oh, Those Rattling Chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be warned this chapter is much more graphic than anything in the rest of this story! I know certain parts of this story have been graphic already, but this takes the cake. Please be prepared for blood, brain and sliced throats! You have been warned. Please enjoy kiddies! ;D

Oh, Those Rattling Chains

The room was old, but clean, and the stench of fresh bleach filled Rhys’ senses like a burn he couldn’t shake loose. Rhys blinked several times, trying to will away the tears forming in the pricks of his eyes, the overwhelming smell causing them to weep without his permission. Rhys was leaned back in what looked to have been a dentist’s chair at some point in its long life. It was old and ragged, the cushion behind his head beginning to split and give way to the white stuffing beneath. The slender man’s fingers curled around the arm rests nervously, nails digging little divots into the faux leather harshly. Rhys could feel his heart in his throat, beating and thudding like a marble rattling around in a tin can. His palm felt slicker than usual and the collar of his shirt felt much tighter than what could be considered comfortable.

The overhead light flickered slightly, as if threatening to go out and there was the hair raising sound of desk chair wheels squealing across the old tile. Rhys cringed slightly and his mismatched eyes followed the sound to its source. The desk chair was occupied by a dark haired, middle aged man, cigarette perched between his chapped lips carelessly. Rhys curled his lip a little and coughed as a good whiff of the smoke went straight into his lungs.

Rhys choked and sputtered, waving the whispers of cigarette expel away from his face. The ebony haired man snorted and put the cigarette out in a small ashtray on his desk, fingers then coming to scratch against his coarse stubble decorating up his jaw line. The man was shady to say the least. He had beady little eyes that hid behind dark rimmed reading glasses. Eyes that squinted every so often as if he were in deep thought. His face seemed to be frozen into the expression of a permanent scowl, his mouth curled downward and teeth coming to unsheathe from behind cracked lips every so often. Rhys couldn’t exactly say he’d expected anything less from someone Fiona was old friend’s with. She seemed extremely good at surrounding herself with the shadiest people in the business. This man was no different.

She said she’d gotten to know him through business dealings, selling him stolen tech where he could turn it around for a pretty penny on the black market. Pandorans would pay an arm and a leg for good tech, since it was hard to come by on the dust bowl of a planet.

Rhys watched with unsure eyes as the man’s fingers clacked over the dusty keyboard loudly.

Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack.

The noise echoed through Rhys’ skull annoyingly, but he sat idle just as instructed. Fiona had insisted that he come here to this friend of her's, Rush, she had called him. So Rhys had gone. Because he needed them to trust him again. He needed his friends back. There was no way he could survive on this god forsaken planet without them. He knew what was wrong up in his head, he knew…but he’d gone anyway. Maybe this Rush guy could figure out a way of possibly getting Jack _out._ Maybe by some fucking miracle the guy was good enough to be able to extract the AI from Rhys’ echo system. Rhys sighed lowly. It was unlikely, but it was worth a shot.

Jack had been unusually quite since he’d last taken over Rhys’ body. The last little stunt he’d pulled seemed to have really knocked the wind out of him, and Rhys couldn’t have been more thankful for that. If Jack had even been the slightest bit conscious for this, things could go very bad, very quickly. Rhys could only hope that it stayed that way…that Jack stayed quiet…for the length of this little visit.

Rush suddenly pushed back from his desk and the wheels of his chair clattered over the uneven tiles loudly, causing Rhys to shake right out of his thoughts and meet eyes with the older man.

He ran a thick hand through his grease laced hair and grumbled something under his breath.

“So it’s your echo implants that have been acting up eh?” Rush said suddenly his voice rough as gravel as it hit Rhys’ ears.

Rhys nodded slowly, eyes settling on the other man’s gaze nervously.

“I think so. I’ve never had anything like this happen before though.” Rhys whispered.

It wasn’t a total lie really…he had in fact never had the ghost of a psychopathic dictator stuck in his head before. So that was truth at least.

Rush looked Rhys dead in the eyes for several seconds, his unwavering glare beginning to make Rhys feel increasingly uncomfortable.

“When did it start and was there anything that like…triggered it? Did you have someone messin’ around with yer internals and they possibly fucked it up or sumthin?” Rush snarled folding his arms across his chest and cracking his neck casually.

Rhys shook his head timidly.

“It started about a week and a half ago, and no…nothing like that. It just…started.” Rhys half lied.

He figured it was better to leave Nakayama’s flash drive completely out of the conversation. What he’d done was highly illegal and Rhys wasn’t about to go blabbing that to complete strangers.

Rush blinked slowly behind his dirty lenses, plucked them off his nose, wiped them with his old white shirt, and replaced the eye wear to his face. His grim expression somehow told Rhys that Rush knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth. The man made a living off of lies and deceit, it was no wonder he could see straight through Rhys’ little façade. The man made a ‘hrrmmph’ noise in his throat and suddenly was lifting up out of his chair.

“Got a couple of tests I can run and see what’s goin’ on in that little head of yers fella.” Rush hissed crossed the small room, his boots clunking the hard floor rhythmically.

Rush circled around Rhys’ chair slowly, the way a Rakk would a dead carcass, eyes like knives, motions like silk. Rhys swallowed dryly. Maybe this was a bad idea. Actually no, this WAS a horrible idea. Fiona seemed to trust this guy, but something about him left a bad taste in Rhys’ mouth that was for damned sure.

Suddenly Rush grabbed the lever of the chair and yanked it down, forcing Rhys into an almost laying position harshly, causing the amber haired man to gasp slightly and grip the armrests tighter. Rush snickered at the other man’s obvious discomfort.

“No worries kid, just like goin’ to the doctor.” Rush slightly reassured, but it did nothing to comfort Rhys really.

The grin spread across the dark haired man’s lips kept a heavy dose of unease coursing through Rhys’ veins like ice. Rush yanked open the top drawer of the nearest cabinet and a whole shelf full of what looked to be both medical equipment, and mechanical tools rolled out to greet him. He grabbed a hooked looking tool and leaned down over Rhys, pulling the hanging overhead light down with his left hand, until the thing was shining directly in Rhys’ eyes. Rhys blinked and his echo eye shifted with the new intake of light. Rush hummed as he grabbed Rhys’ eyelid and pried it open with his thumb and forefinger, clicking the tool against the metal side of Rhys’ echo eye. Rhys grit his teeth together hard. He couldn’t feel the tool against his echo eye, but his implants were screaming with the onset of some kind of danger to them, a warning blinking across his eyesight rapidly. Rhys willed it away and tried to override the warning sequences.

“That’s some fancy Hyperion hardware you got there kid.” Rush said lowly, leaning away from Rhys’ eye and setting the hooked tool back in its place.

Rhys did not reply to the comment, just continued to lay still watching hesitantly as the gruff man grabbed some cords and plugged it into the side of his computer. He let the other end hang loosely as he stood slowly. He then reached beneath the seat and began dragging heavy straps up over Rhys’ body.

“Wait what the hell are you doing?” Rhys questioned sitting up suddenly eyebrows drawn together angrily.

Rush rolled his dark brown eyes and huffed out loudly.

“Look kid you got some hardware issues going on. Fiona told me it’s been causing you to lose control of your body. Now I don’t feel like dying today, and I gotta plug you in to see what’s going on with your echo implants. That could trigger whatever is going haywire in your mechanics. I’m doing this for your safety, and mine. I wouldn’t be doing this at all if I didn’t owe Fiona a solid.” Rush grumbled shoving Rhys back down onto the chair and clipping the locking strap over Rhys chest, pulling it tight.

The straps around Rhys’ wrists come next, then his legs and ankles. It didn't feel right. None of it felt right, and he wasn't sure why he just continued to go along with it. He should have known better, but the slim hope that this man could actually drag Jack’s AI out of his echo implants kept him compliant. He couldn't afford to give up this chance. The restraints were tight. Too tight. Rhys shifted slightly beneath the straps and sucked in a shaky breath. He mentally tried to calm himself down, desperately reminding himself to just breathe and it would all be ok. Fiona wouldn’t just leave him to someone she didn’t fully trust…would she? With that Rhys could hear Rush approaching him once more, a large solid black wire in hand.

“This might sting a little kid.” He grumbled before shoving the wire into Rhys’ echo port.

Rhys screamed out and his fists clenched at his sides. His limbs tried to buck upward but the restraints keep him glued to the chair. The pain was white hot as it flowed through his port and straight into his skull. It swam through every inch of his brain, jolting him to life and causing his every nerve to dance with sheer pain. It was like a thousand needles all jabbing into his temple at once. Clearly the wire was not one of the Hyperion issued devices he was used to back on Helios. Those wires were specially made for exporting Echo information, with special features that made it a painless process. This was just a raw wire, most likely pulled from some scrap heap, and now it was locked into Rhys' port like a venomous snake. Tears sprang to Rhys' eyes and he pulled desperately against the straps.

“STOP!! STOP!!! IT FUCKING HURTS!!! PLEASE STOP!!!” Rhys begged to the other man his voice high and strained, a small string of saliva dribbling over his chin as he screamed.

Rush didn't even flinch at the kid’s screams. He was too enthralled with his computer screen, watching as codes and information uploaded rapidly, the words reflecting in the whites of his eyes as he stared in awe. A slim grin broke across the older man’s lips and his wild eyes flicked to the screaming man. After a few moments Rush yanked the wire from Rhys’ echo port carelessly, letting it fall loose on the desk once more. The pain was instantly gone, but Rhys was left with a throbbing ache that felt like he'd head butted a bandit technical. Rhys whimpered lowly and let his head fall back on the chair hard, little streams of tears running the lengths of his cheeks.

Why did he agree to this?

Why did he ever think this was a smart idea? Now it was just him, and the man called Rush. Vaughn wasn’t here to save him, nor was Sasha, or Fiona. Fiona had assured them all it was completely safe to leave Rhys in Rush’s care. That he would be fine. He would be in good hands.

Rush returned to the computer screen, scanning over it quickly, his grin widening with every bit of information he read. His gaze flicked to Rhys suddenly, his eyes wild and dangerous.

“I knew there was something you weren’t telling me you little shit.” Rush snarled stalking back toward Rhys languidly.

Rhys felt his breath hitch in his throat and there was a sense of panic rising up his esophagus like bile.

“Do I even _want_ to know where you stumbled across an AI system like _that?”_ Rush hissed leaning down and wiping the spit from Rhys’ chin teasingly.

Rhys said nothing, simply stared up wide eyed and fearful. Rush could see the AI within him, he knew Jack was there, entwined within his mechanics, but something told him this was not at all a good development. Rhys felt his body begin to quiver and he was afraid, so very fucking afraid.

Rush pushed his glasses up his nose and his eyes swam over Rhys like some big cat assessing slow and wounded prey.

“Do you _know_ how much Hyperion would pay for that information?” Rush asked Rhys but Rhys knew it wasn't a real question.

Rush snorted and grabbed a pair of work gloves off the counter top, stretching the worn, oily material down over his left hand and then his right. He was then wandering the room, pulling tools from different cabinets and toolboxes, setting them along the table next to Rhys with clanks and clatters.

“Enough to get me a one way ticket off of this shithole planet. Buy myself some land somewhere far away from here, that’s for damned sure. Oh no wonder you didn’t let me know that itsy bitsy little detail. I don’t know where you got a hold of that AI, or how, but I’d be more than happy to take it off your hands for you if you’d like.” Rush snarled his lips twitching up in a maniacal smile that shook Rhys down to his very bones.

“Better take all your little mechanics too…just to be on the safe side. Hope you don’t mind me borrowing that little arm and pretty eye of yours.” Rush continued chuckling lowly to himself.

He dragged a massive drill out from a drawer and plugged it into the wall outlet carelessly. He put his finger to its trigger and tested it a couple of times, the mechanical parts whirring to life as the drill spun. Rhys shifted his feet frantically.

“NO! Y-You can’t do that!!!” Rhys screamed struggling against his bindings like some trapped animal, his eyes wild and terrified.

Rush cocked his head to the side and snorted at the scrambling man below him.

“It’s nothing personal.” Rush snarled whirring the drill to full power and slamming it into the first screw of Rhys’ arm attachment.

Rhys screamed out wildly, trying to tear his arm away frantically. He could feel the drill’s vibrations rattling through his bones, the flesh that connected to the mechanical arm throbbing with the onset of activity. Rhys pulls and tugs and screams. He screams as loud as he can possibly muster. He screams for Vaughn. He screams for Sasha. He screams for Fiona. He screams for somebody…anybody…and nobody comes.

Rhys felt the first screw clatter to the tile floor, then the second, and the third…over and over again, a bone chilling, racking pain that shoots through him like electricity. One by one the screws came loose and Rhys could feel the socket of his mechanical arm opening, the connecting pieces parting with a hard tug. It’s like bones breaking and skin tearing and everything within him hurts as he catches sight of his arms internal workings. Wires and metal where bone should have been, mechanics sparkling like Christmas lights in Rhys’ eyes. His tongue lolled against the backs of his teeth and his stomach turned as he feels the arm coming loose. It’s an utterly sick, vile feeling as the arm leaves him and everything comes caving down around him. He turned to the side as best he could, heaving and wrenching as his stomach emptied itself down the side of the chair. He coughs and gags, shaking and shivering as fluid dribbles lazily off his bottom lip. His eyes flutter and his body swims with utter, racking pain. The empty port of his shoulder whirs and twists as his echo implants try to move an arm that is no longer there. The pain is just too much, it hurts. It hurts so fucking much. A loud, swirling ache that envelops his entire being and swallows him whole.

Rhys’ eyes rolled closed, his body simply unable to withstand the pain coursing through it, and so it did the only thing it could…shut down.

 

 

Rhys’ eyes slowly opened, blinking gently as he soaked in his surroundings. It was dark, everything was so very dark. A thick, heavy, pitch black that seemed to suck down his throat and stick to his lungs. It weighed on him like thousands of pounds, boring down on his shoulders mercilessly. Rhys slowly sat up, unsteadily, sorely, his entire body protesting the action with all it had. His vision was blurry, like looking through a fogged window. He squinted desperately, hands coming to rub his eyes, attempting to regain some of his vision in vain. When his eyes re-opened, things were just slightly clearer, but the darkness surrounding him had not changed. There was nothing to be seen for miles, except utter pitch blackness. Rhys felt his pulse rising rapidly.

Where was he?

“You’re dead.” Came a sudden voice that seemed to echo through his left ear and out his right.

Rhys turned in the direction of the noise, but was met by nothing but more darkness.

“What?” Rhys questioned to the unknown source.

“You heard me.” The voice repeated.

That silken sound was so familiar and haunting on Rhys’ ears. Something that was so very distinct and so common in the hollows of his head, it almost felt like home. Almost.

Rhys felt his throat clench and he looked down at his arms, but much to his horror…only one appeared in front of his line of vision. His human arm was there…but not his robotic limb. Rhys frantically touched over his shoulder, the metal port proving hollow and empty where the limb should be. Rhys let loose a frantic yelp and tried to stand in panic, but only succeeding in tripping over himself and falling forward. His teeth clamped down on his lip with the impact, cutting through the tender skin harshly. Rhys rolled onto his back, clumsily trying to push himself upright with his one arm. He could feel blood running down his chin and drooling over his throat, tears welling in his eyes as he looked around frantically. Rhys reached up to wipe at his eyes, fist bumping against the socket where his echo eye should have been…but finding it empty. Shaking fingers touched with the hollow of Rhys’ empty socket and he cried out in utter panic, more tears sliding down from his good eye, the rattling sobs bubbling up from his chest like wildfire.

“I-I can’t be dead…that’s…that’s not possible!!” Rhys wailed pathetically, his voice echoing through the blackness around him.

Suddenly there was a flicker of blue light emanating from the darkness, like a glowing fire whisking to life from the shadows. Rhys was bathed in the blue glow, the wet tears on his cheek sparkling like glitter in the dark. He grit his teeth together as the form seemed to become clearer, bringing itself together and steadily making its way toward where Rhys sat in a pathetic heap.

Cold yellow eyes peered at him from holographic blue sockets set deep in a flickering face. They looked upon him like he was a dog in the street, scrutinizing him with shame and displeasure in their pupils. The blue surrounding the figure eventually faded, giving way to something so very familiar to Rhys’ eyes. Walnut hair, broad shoulders, pocket watch chain swaying with his every movement. The figure approached Rhys slowly, then gently leaned down before him, a large hand coming to cup Rhys’ jaw.

“Jack…?” Rhys whispered softly, the sobs still shuddering through his body.

Jack tilted his chin up just slightly, looking over a boy that seemed to only be half there. His eye was gone, just a hollow, bloody socket left in its wake. His arm was ripped from its socket, every screw having been torn from its connecting joint, his shoulder red and inflamed where the implant had been pushed and shoved too roughly. Jack’s yellow, glowering eyes settled over the young man’s temple…or more so where it should have been. Instead there was just a gaping wound where his port once was, a hole consisting of broken skull, caked blood and exposed brain. Deep crimson wept down Rhys’ forehead like tar, thick and languid. Jack reached to the slender man’s temple, sweeping the pad of his index finger through the blood, inspecting the red, vibrant fluid with understanding eyes.

“This is what happens Rhys. When you go behind my back, when you let others know about me.” Jack whispered clicking his tongue slowly.

Rhys shivered and sobbed as Jack pulled him in close, the mess of a man bleeding onto Jack’s clothing, staining his coat thick red as Jack allowed him to rest his head there.

“These people, are bandits. Maniacs. The second they find out what type of information you have obtained…they will stop at nothing to take it from you. Pumpkin the world is a horrible place. Everybody on this planet is a sick, disgusting little parasite.” Jack hissed stroking a soothing palm through the hair on Rhys’ scalp that wasn’t caked with blood.

Rhys cried into Jack’s collar, tears rolling down his cheek thick and heavy, hand gripping into the material provided. Jack was something dangerous, but at least he was familiar. He was something Rhys knew, he was a slight bit of comfort that Rhys could cling to.

“This is why I told you to keep me a secret.” Jack whispered into Rhys’ ear.

His words were hot and fluid over Rhys’ sensitive anatomy. Rhys quivered into the older man’s grip blinking rapidly, trying to grasp onto any one single thought.

“I wanted to protect you.” Jack hushed his voice low and steady.

Rhys nodded into Jack’s overcoat, eye wide with disbelief.

“I don’t want to die Jack.” Rhys whispered through broken breaths.

Jack kissed against the young man’s forehead, lips soft and warm, painted crimson with the contact.

“Then you have to listen to me pumpkin. You have to trust me. You have to let me in.” Jack hissed against his counterpart’s skin.

Rhys nodded frantically, hands stilling in the front of Jack’s clothing.

“Don’t let me die Jack.” Rhys begged to the walnut haired man his pupil shrinking as he looked up to that all too familiar mismatched gaze.

“You have my word kiddo.” Jack husked fingers parting through bloody locks, lulling the broken man into some strange sort of sleep, something that was not quite comfortable, but was not all unpleasant.

 

 

Rush let the drill clatter down onto the table, setting the robotic arm to the side carefully. He looked at the unconscious man with unwavering eyes. He was not sorry. This was his way off of this awful planet, and he would not apologize for simply doing what he had to do. His fingers found the handle of a small circular saw, winding it to life in his palms, looking down at the echo port with unchanging eyes. He saw no other way to go about it, but to cut the thing loose. That was the only way to get an Echo system out. The boy wouldn’t live, and frankly he didn’t care. It wasn’t the first time blood would be spilled on his hands, and it wouldn’t be the last. Rush closed in on the young man, the blade of the saw whirring with a loud, shrill whine that echoed off the walls of the small room. Rush drew in a deep breath and lowered the saw toward the man’s skull.

Suddenly the young man’s eyes flicked open, and he swung his head to the side, causing Rush to back up with utter surprise and the saw sliced right through the restraint strapped across Rhys’ chest. The amber haired man gave a bellowing yell and ripped his human arm upward, snapping the restraint with ease, his one good hand then frantically undoing the other restraints. Rush’s back bumped against the counter as the young man rolled off the chair and onto the floor with a loud thud. Rhys’ fingers snapped up to the chair and dragged himself up off the floor unsteadily.

Rush looked on in confusion and horror, his brown eyes meeting with a golden and chocolate glare that somehow felt like it did not belong to the gangly young man he’d conversed with earlier. The amber haired man’s lip twitched up into a menacing grin, staring Rush down across the chair with flames flickering behind his yellow orb.

“The fuck are you doing you little bastard! I’ll gut you where you stand!!” Rush yelled whirring the saw back to life and taking a step forward.

“You, are going to gut me? Really now? Do you have any fucking _idea_ who you are talking to you worthless little bandit?” The amber haired man snarled viciously.

Rush stopped dead in his tracks. The voice that now emanated from the young man across the room, was not at all the voice he’d heard when speaking to him earlier. The boy had been so timid, and frightened before, scared for his very life. Not anymore. Now he looked at Rush in the same way he might look at dirt beneath his shoe.

Rush just stared, wide eyed, saw still in hand, now unsure of what move to take next.

The taller man sighed as if in annoyance and rolled his eyes, his yellow echo orb flicking and focusing mechanically.

“Oh you don’t do you? Well…let me introduce myself. The name’s Jack…Handsome Jack.” Jack snarled steadying himself on two feet, the task proving much more difficult with the lack of one arm.

Rush’s face twisted up into a confused grimace.

“You’re not Handsome Jack.” Rush argued feebly.

Though the voice now sliding through the young man’s lips sure did sound eerily familiar to the ex- Hyperion President’s tone. That was a voice that was not easily forgotten.

Rush’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. The AI. Was it possible that it had somehow taken over the boy’s body? Rush shook his head frantically. That wasn’t fucking possible.

“You’re real cute cupcake.” Jack chuckled his eyes falling into playful little slits as he peered at the ebony haired man.

“But look, bandit, I gotta tell you, this whole trying to tear my little friend here into pieces is really not cool. You see, I need the kid. As much as you think you need him, for your little ticket off this planet, I need him more. This kid, is mine. So let’s get one thing straight, I really don’t appreciate you trying to off him right underneath my fucking nose.” Jack hissed taking a slow step around the chair, eyeing Rush dangerously.

Rush said nothing, simply stared at the horror playing out before him.

Before he could make another move, Jack stomped on the cord attached to the drill, yanking it down out of Rush’s hand and slicing three of his fingers clean off as it fell. Rush howled out in pain stumbling back against the counter, slinging his now bleeding hand, spraying crimson down onto the floor and across his tools. Jack lunged forward, grabbing the saw now skittering across the tile wildly. He clasped his fingers around the handle and whipped around to face the bleeding, cursing man to his left.

Jack kicked the man in the gut hard, bringing him down to his knees before him.

“That’s right. You better kneel before your king bandit.” Jack snarled wildly before bringing the blade across Rush’s throat, opening up his neck mercilessly.

Blood sprayed out over Jack’s arms, speckling over Rhys’ shirt and pants. Jack’s eyes were wild as he brought the blade away, the man before him making sickening gurgling sounds, hands clawing at his throat as it oozed blood down his front. He coughed up a sputter of crimson, the shimmering liquid drooling down over his bottom lip and then he fell forward hard, crumpling into a sad heap on the old tile. Jack stepped over the now still man, carefully avoiding the pool of blood forming around him.

He wiped a bit of blood off his cheek and clicked the saw off, setting the now dormant tool down on the table near the operating chair. Jack grabbed the abandoned robotic arm and causally wedged it into a vice on the counter, collecting the screws and the drill gently.

Jack propped the stump of Rhys’ implant against the detached limb and clicked it into socket.

There was a small flicker against the back of his skull…a dull warmth just coming back into consciousness.

“Jack?” A whisper came forth to kiss against his ear.

“Yeah kiddo?” Jack answered talking out loud, seeing as there was really nobody to hear him.

“What happened? D-Did…did I really die?” Rhys questioned sleepily, his voice laced with confusion.

“You didn’t really die. But if I hadn’t helped, you would have.” Jack said pointedly, reattaching the screws of Rhys’ arm to their proper places.

“W-What about Rush?” Rhys questioned slowly.

Jack’s eyes flicked down the man lying in a pool of dark, slick red, his wide, lifeless eyes, glistening back at Jack hollowly.

“He got his one way ticket off Pandora…free of charge.” Jack snarled.


	8. A Drink With a Demon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I am so sorry for the end of this chapter. Anybody that reads my stories knows that I am like the queen of cliffhangers *tilts crown to the side* and welp I live up to my name in this chapter oh man. So sorry ahead of time!! Also sorry for the lack of smut in this, it's turned into more action and plot development these past few chapters, but the smut shall return. I am just setting up this story to get it on the right track for the plot I have in mind. So hold tight kiddies. Also fair warning for breaking bones, and guns in this chapter! Enjoy!

A Drink With a Demon

Jack took only a few moments to rummage through the rest of the cabinets and drawers, trying to find anything of use. He came across a Jakobs pistol crammed deep in the confines of a toolbox and he lifted the pretty weapon out carefully. It wasn’t a Hyperion, but it would have to fucking do. Jack stuffed the gun into his belt and turned to leave. There was nothing more to gain from this place. The creak of old hinges echoed behind Jack’s turned shoulders, palm wrapped tight around the knob as he pulled the door closed. Closing in the bloody scene splayed out over the dingy tiles, closing in the now memory of a stupid little bandit, a stupid little bandit who was nothing more than a goddamned waste of space. Jack curled his lip up in a displeased fashion. Disgusting little vermin, the lot of them. All they knew how to do was steal and lie and murder. They were even less human than the wild creatures that called this scorched, nasty little planet home. These bandits were no better than a snaggle-toothed alpha Skag, and no more intelligent either.

The whole planet was a fucking breeding ground for the worst of things. The worst humans, the worst creatures. Just an entire planet inhabited by worthless, nasty, blood thirsty heathens. All of them. All heathens. Jack’s boots slapped the hard wood floor as he made his way down the long underground hallway, fists balled at his sides irritably. His shoulder throbbed where mechanics met with skin and the pain was driving him up a fucking wall. The entire situation in general wasn’t doing much to help either. Rhys stirred in the back of Jack’s skull, his gaze worried as he looked back at the closed door.

“We’re just going to…leave him there?” Rhys whispered lowly, face screwed up in confusion and worry.

Jack did not answer for a long moment, the rhythmic thud of the skag skin boots being the only sound between the two men.

“Yep. Someone will find him eventually. He’ll start to stink in a couple of days.” Jack snarled as his feet met with old wooden steps, the stairs creaking and groaning under the new weight loudly.

Rhys made an uncomfortable noise in his throat and watched as Jack once again took his body, doing with it what he pleased. Rhys did not complain this time around. He was still in a state of shock from the events previous, the brush with near death still leaving a dry, unpleasant taste in his mouth. If it weren’t for Jack, he’d be in about three different pieces, being packaged up and shipped off to some shady Hyperion higher ups, willing to do anything to get their hands on Jack’s AI. Rhys was just lucky Jack didn’t exactly seem interested in being shipped up to Hyperion in pieces and parts, he seemed pretty keen on taking Rhys with him when he delivered himself back up to Helios.

“It’s not exactly like that cupcake.” Jack quipped suddenly, having been listening to Rhys’ train of thought diligently.

Rhys swallowed hard his eyebrows furrowing together hard.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t absolutely love to ditch your dumb ass, and get to Helios on my own, it’s that I _can’t._ Not without you at least.” Jack snarled lowly climbing the stairs steadily, one foot after the other, a calm pattern of hard thuds of leather on wood.

Rhys scrunched up his face in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Rhys squeaked timidly.

He wasn’t even sure he really wanted an answer to that, but he was going to get one anyway. As soon as the words left his lips, he really wasn’t sure he was prepared for the response that was to come.

“I’m not just in your echo system anymore kiddo, I’m _in_ you. All of you. Your brain, your nerves, your body. Didn’t really know that’s what would come of me actually taking over your body…but it did. We’re stuck with each other whether we like it or not kiddo. I’m _part_ of you now.” Jack hissed darkly.

Rhys made a distressed noise and felt all the color drain right out of his face.

“As far as I know, nobody this side of the galaxy has the means, or technology to separate us. I’m too deep into your nervous system. Every time I take over, it becomes more permanent actually…” Jack sighed pausing in the stairwell.

Rhys buried his face in his hands, eyes wide with disbelief and woe. There was no getting rid of Jack. There was no hope of one day finally getting his body, and sanity back. He would forever share every second, every moment, with _him._ Rhys suddenly wished he could just have cancer instead. At least cancer would be some sort of disease he’d get sympathy for. Cancer would be gentler than the parasite dwelling within him. Cancer wasn’t something he’d have to hide and keep wrapped in secrets in order to keep himself alive. He was going to be like this... _forever._ The realization hit Rhys like a ton of bricks, breaking his bones and spirit all in one tumbling motion.

“No…” Rhys whispered tears welling up in his eyes, stinging his orbs mercilessly.

He would never just be himself again. He would always just be a host. Nothing more and nothing less. He would constantly have to share what was his to begin with. This was his body, this was his life, and yet there it laid in pieces at his feet, all broken and bruised like some lifeless thing. Rhys could only look on as everything was stolen from him, ripped right out of his fingers. He felt like everything was simply crashing down around him.

Jack rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Look cupcake, it isn’t exactly the most ideal situation for me either. But guess what, we don’t have a fucking choice.” Jack snarled clearly annoyed with how badly the younger man was taking the news.

Jack hadn’t chosen to be permanently implanted in some snot nosed Hyperion lackey either. He hadn’t chosen to be stuck sharing a body with someone so fucking unworthy of his greatness. He was stuck having to bear this face and this body. He would never actually be _himself_ again, but this was better than nothing. He needed the kid, and the kid needed him.

“This is my body! I-I don’t want to be like this forever!!” Rhys full on wailed, the tears coming harder and more frantically.

Jack’s face fell from mild displeasure to wild anger. He growled in a breath, low and deep, shoulders stiffening slightly.

“Well that’s just too fucking bad kiddo. You should be honored really, you ungrateful little shit. You’re not just sharing a body with _anybody_. You’re sharing a body with the greatest ruler that ever fucking lived. You and me kid, we are gunna go places, we are gunna take back Hyperion and conquer Pandora. We are gunna _civilize_ this fucking planet. So you better change your attitude real fucking quick. I’ve saved your ass multiple times in the past several days, and I have been incredibly _tolerant_ of your whining and ridiculous _disobedience._ But my patience is wearing thin Rhys…really fucking thin.” Jack snarled his voice dripping to a wicked, dangerous place.

Rhys screwed his eyes shut, trying to swallow his thick sobs down desperately. He never thought in all his life, he could actually be afraid…of himself. The more he disobeyed, the more he fought, the angrier Jack became. Eventually Jack could possibly become displeased enough to just steal Rhys’ body completely. Shove Rhys into a little corner of his brain and never let him see the light of day.

Jack’s lips split into an absolutely diabolical grin.

“Oh kiddo, you’re smarter than you look huh? If you don’t start cooperating with this whole little development of ours…that is exactly what will happen. Eventually, with time and practice, I could learn to completely take this body for myself. I won’t even _need_ you anymore. You’ll be nothing more than a little buzz in the deepest parts of my brain. But I don’t want to do that sweetie. Really I don’t, I want this to be a group effort thing. You and me, together, climbing back to our throne, you finally getting a taste of all that power! So cupcake, why don’t you start being a good little pet, and listen to what I say. Then things will be smooth sailing from here on out, for both of us. Let me take care of you pumpkin. Let me make something out of you. You were destined for greatness, and I can make _all of that_ happen.” Jack cooed folding his arms across his chest.

Rhys sniffled softly and wiped at his eyes in vain. A small nod from the amber haired boy in the back of Jack’s head was enough of an answer for the ex-CEO.

“Ok…” Rhys whispered lowly his voice shaky and ragged.

“That’s it baby boy. Let daddy take it from here.” Jack snickered brushing Rhys’ borrowed fingers through his amber locks, smoothing them back into order.

“At least I got paired up with a looker you know? I mean you are pretty easy on the eyes, so that’s a plus. Coulda been worse I guess. Hell I coulda gotten stuck with some chubby, Twinkie inhaling little buffoon.” Jack quipped meanly, and Rhys guessed that was his way of trying to move on and lighten the mood a bit.

Rhys really didn’t find it any more comforting. He let his eyelids fall nearly closed, burying his chin in his knees as he pulled them tight to his body. Not so many months ago he would have been swooning over the fact that Handsome Jack had just called him easy on the eyes. Now the comment only made him more sick to his stomach.

“Now…I need a fucking drink after all that mess.” Jack snarled continuing up the stairs.

He shoved the small trap door open and hauled himself out into the small, badly lit shop that was disguised as some form of trading post. There was a woman sitting behind the front counter and simply eyed Jack as he swept across the length of the room and shoved the front door wide, the little bell chiming with its movement.

Rhys’ borrowed body was a sight to be withheld, drying blood still clinging to the front of his pants and places on his shirt. Jack had tried to wipe most of it away, but despite his efforts there were still several opposing stains. His eyes were dark and sunken in, the awful taste of vomit still lingering in the confines of his mouth. Jack spit into the dirt of the street before him, trying to will the aftertaste away in vain. His gold and brown gaze flicked up to the old sign illuminating the street below in glorious purple.

“The Purple Skag” was all it read, the florescent lights fluttering and dancing in the shadow of the evening. Jack sighed. It wasn’t exactly what he was used to back on Helios, and he doubted they’d be serving anything that didn’t taste like Skag piss but it was damned sure better than nothing.

“B-But…I don’t drink…” Rhys whispered lowly, following Jack’s line of vision timidly.

Jack snorted at the other man’s commentary and was already making his way toward the large sign, boots kicking the dust in haste.

“Well you do now kiddo.” Jack hissed.

The bar was old, just like everything else in this fucking town. It’s rafters hung low, the walls decorated in a thick paper that maybe about twenty years ago was striped, possibly floral? It was hard to tell. Jack sauntered toward the bar, footsteps seeming to echo through the quiet space as the small jukebox in the corner pauses to switch songs. The barkeep’s eyes flicked up to meet with incongruous brown and honey orbs. Jack ripped out the stool with a long drag of hard legs on hard floor and eased himself down into the seat as if he weighed about a thousand pounds. It was wearing work, caring for himself and the idiot, and making sure they didn’t get themselves killed in the process. This was going to be a long trip that was for damned sure.

“What can I get you pretty boy.” The bar keep quipped, his wrist flicking fluidly over a glass as he wipes it clean with a rag that has certainly seen better days.

Jack grimaced at the nickname. He’d forgotten for a moment that he does not in the least bit look like his normal self and that irks him down to his bones. He has to remind himself he now looks like a thirty-whatever year old, bright eyed, busy tailed Hyperion underling. Great, he sighed to himself. It’s hard to look _dangerous_ when you’re stuck looking like some pretty little callboy.

“I **_do not_** look like a callboy.” Rhys snarled in the hollows of Jack’s left ear and Jack only rolled his eyes at the comment.

“Oh c’mon kiddo let’s be real here. You look about as fragile as a china cup, your hair is way too perfect, and you definitely got some dick sucking lips on ya. Perfect callboy material. Hell I woulda fucked you into next Wednesday if I’d have gotten my hands on you back when I owned this fucking place. Mighta made you sit by my desk naked all day so I’d have had something pretty to look at while I worked.” Jack thought back coyly, the corner of his lip pulling up slightly.

Rhys nearly choked on his spit and deteriorated into a wild coughing fit. Jack assumed the small victory and turned his full attention back to the bar keep and his nasty little attitude.

“Something strong that doesn’t taste like used bath water would be nice. Somethin’ that’s gunna burn like shit on the way down. Thanks pumpkin.” Jack snarled tapping his long fingers on the worn wood of the bar.

The barkeep shot him a displeased glance and grunted lowly, turning to grab a glass and a bottle of something that looked dark enough to be tar. He scooped a couple of ice cubes into the small glass and plunked it down in front of the amber haired man loudly. The barkeep poured all the way up to the top, some sloshing out onto the counter carelessly. He thudded the big, heavy bottle down on the counter behind him and leaned against it, his eyes scanning over the strange man before him once more.

“You best be careful with that stuff. You look like a bit of a lightweight dollface, best not overdo it…with looks like your’s, someone’s liable to take advantage of a pretty thing like you.” The barkeep hissed through a wide grin, his rotting smile on full, shameless display.

Jack shot him a dark, un-amused glance, echo eye sifting and scanning the much larger, overweight man. He was about forty-eight, two hundred and twenty pounds, he had a fucked up right knee, went by the name of Jason Tilly and had about six arrest warrants ranging from sexual assault to murder. This bar had fantastic choice in employees, Jack thought grimacing.

“I can’t tell if your hitting on me, or threatening to rape me cupcake.” Jack snarled.

“Either way I think I’ll pass.” He finished taking a long draw of the hard drink, knocking back about half of it in one go.

The liquid seared down his throat, settling in his stomach like a solid kick to the gut. It had an aftertaste like gasoline and a smell that reminded Jack of the oil they’d use to lubricate GUN Loaders.

The large man gave a hearty little chuckle and laid his palms flat on the counter top, crooning down into Jack’s personal space. Jack could feel the disgusting man’s hot expel of breath wash over his cheeks and the rancid smell of his mouth set heavy in the ex-CEO’s nostrils. The man was close enough that Jack could count exactly five missing teeth from the big bastard’s grin, and notice a small speck of a leftover meal stuck up in his gums.

“I don’t think I was givin’ you the option to pass.” The man snarled reaching out to run a finger through the amber hairs swooped back over the young man’s head.

Jack’s palm shot up to curl around the big man’s wrist, pausing to finish off the rest of his drink, then looking casually at the stunned man.

“I’m going to give you one chance to rethink that comment pumpkin.” Jack sighed glaring at the large barkeep with viciously poisonous pupils.

The barkeep’s grin dissinergrated into a disgusted frown.

“You cocky little asshole, I’m gunna break every bone in your little body when I bend you over this bar and fuck your stupid little brains out.” The barkeep snarled attempting to rip his arm out of the thinner man’s mechanical grasp.

Jack rolled his eyes and shoved the man’s wrist down on the bar as hard as his robotic arm could muster, snapping the bone with a deafening crack. The bartender let loose of a bewildered cry and staggered backward clutching his broken wrist whimpering like a sick Skag. His eyes pricked with glistening tears as he mourned over the shattered bone and gave the slender man a confused glance.

“Keep that as a tip cupcake.” Jack snarled scooting back from the bar with a loud screech and turning, only to be met by an all too familiar gaze.

He’d never met with those green eyes in person, only seen them through Rhys’ eyes, but he’d never fucking trusted them. Never trust a bandit. Bandit’s would only back stab you and double cross you and slit your throat in your sleep if it gained them something they wanted.

Fiona, that was her name if Jack could remember correctly. Fucking scummy little bandit. It had been her idea in the first place to push Rhys off on her little tech friend, hell for all he knew she might have been in on the whole thing. Maybe she’d agreed to split the spoils with Rush after selling Rhys’ parts off to Hyperion.

Jack grimaced darkly eyes falling into angry little slits in the company of the short haired, particularly well dressed bandit.

“Rhys?” Fiona questioned taking a step back from the tall man before her.

Jack crossed his arms over his chest lazily and tilted his head back, scrutinizing her every inch as he looked at her.

“Fiona. Just the woman I wanted to see. How about we sit down, and have a little chat pumpkin.” Jack hissed motioning to a little booth in the dark corner of the bar, away from the rest of its occupants.

Fiona shot him a confused look, but followed his lead anyway.

“Pumpkin…?” She repeated under her breath in a questioning fashion.

Jack slid into the cushioned booth, interlacing his fingers together on the table top sprawled out before him.

Fiona sat across from him hesitantly, eyebrows drawn over pine colored eyes, distrusting of the aura the man opposite her was emanating.

“What are you doing here Rhys? I thought you were still with Rush? What happened, did he find anything out? Is your Echo implant fixed?” Fiona fired off the questions in a hushed tone, her eyes searching of Rhys’ face for answers.

Her gaze settled over his mismatched eyes uncomfortably…had his echo eye always been gold? She thought to herself slowly.

“You see…funny story about that. Well turns out your little friend, wanted nothing more than to harvest Rhys’…err…I mean my echo implants and sell them off to Hyperion for big money.” Jack snarled lowly eyes flicking up to meet Fiona’s.

Fiona drew in a shaky breath and her face seemed to fall a little.

“I barely made it out alive. Do you know what it feels like to have an arm detached, and then have to reattach it yourself?” Jack snapped, shoving Rhys’ shirt to the side and displaying the now very inflamed skin that was jointed to the mechanical arm port.

“Lemme tell you kitten, it’s just about as painful as it looks.” He continued, fixing the shirt back into place and tilting his head at the con artist sitting wide eyed across from him.

Fiona gasped slightly and shook her head in dismay.

“Oh my god Rhys, I am so sorry…I-I never thought Rush would pull something like that on me! Not after everything I have fucking done for that son of a bitch! I-I’ll fucking kill him for this! Trying to go behind my back!” Fiona snarled lowly slamming her fist down on the table.

Jack’s lip curled upward slyly, smile laced with poison and malice. It was enough to make Fiona’s gut clench and her throat run dry.

“No need. I already took care of that for you kiddo.” Jack hissed leaning back in the bench seat, propping one of his legs up on his knee casually.

Fiona shot him a dumbfounded glance.

“What….” Fiona breathed softly.

Terror had begun to creep into the corners of her shifty eyes and it caused a low chuckle to bubble up from Jack’s throat.

“But that is beside the point cupcake. You know what I think? I think…Rush wasn’t the only one wanting to get his hands on the riches those high tech Hyperion implants could bring in.” Jack whispered his eyes narrowing over Fiona darkly.

Fiona’s face fell into an angry, highly offended expression.

“You think I was in on it!? What the fuck Rhys, you think after everything we’ve been through I’d just sell you off just like that??” Fiona snared over the booth her voice high and distressed.

“You’re a bandit Fiona, that’s what bandits do. You saw the opportunity and you took it, most likely figured you and your little tech buddy would make out like kings, filling your pockets with dirty Hyperion money until your little hearts were content. You’re like glass kiddo, I see right through your bullshit.” Jack snapped, slamming his open palms on the table, causing Fiona to jump in her seat.

There was something very, very wrong here. Rhys did not sound a thing like Rhys, his voice deeper, more masculine, laced with bad intentions. That was nothing like Rhys. Rhys was timid, and awkward. There was nothing timid nor awkward to be had here. His demeanor had shifted into something dangerous, full of malicious intent, eyes dripping fire and teeth oozing venom. It was like staring into the eyes of a very angry Stalker, animalistic and vicious. Fiona’s hand instinctively went to her belt, where her pistol hung loosely.

Jack seemed to notice the small movement from the slender woman.

“Oh…am I scaring you Fiona? I’m so sorry…you know…I just get so riled up about these things kiddo. I don’t like being double crossed like that. Nobody fucking double crosses me…” Jack hissed baring his pearly teeth.

His hands that had been hidden beneath the table, came forth, laying the Jakobs pistol sideways in his grip, finger already snug on the trigger.

Internally Rhys was screaming against Jack’s skull. Screaming for him to stop, screaming that he couldn’t do this. Fucking kid didn’t understand. Jack could do whatever he fucking wanted. Whether or not this scummy little bandit had actually been part of Rush’s plot didn’t really matter to Jack. She was a danger to his plans. She knew there was something going on with Rhys. She knew that he was dangerous. That made her a threat…and threats had to be eliminated.

“Let’s go for a walk pumpkin.” Jack snarled flicking the gun’s barrel toward the door casually.

Fiona said nothing, but her face said it all. She was beyond livid and terrified. The fear for her life bringing bile to her tongue.

Two sets of shoes treaded through the dust, heading down some back alleyway that was absent of all people and absent of all hope. Fiona swallowed dryly as Rhys commanded her to stop and turn around, her back pressed to an old brick wall, her eyes wavering and shaking as she stared down the barrel of the Jakobs pistol pointed at her.

“Rhys I would never cross you like that…please don’t do this…you aren’t thinking straight.” Fiona said trying to calm her voice and diffuse the situation at hand.

Her heart thundered in her breast, pulse thrumming wildly in her ears. Rhys wouldn’t shoot her…would he? Standing there, looking at the man that didn’t really seem like a man at all…she wasn’t so sure of that assumption. The thing standing there before her was not Rhys…no…this was something else, something darker…something meaner. Rhys’ fingers did not move from the gun’s trigger. He did not waver, did not lower the weapon. He simply stared, with beastly eyes that glowered like coals in the shadows.

“Oh no, I think I am thinking perfectly straight kiddo.” Jack hissed his voice like honey and lace.

The bandit stood there looking to him for some sort of mercy, her eyes wide and shaky. This was his favorite part, the moment where they think there is some slim hope that he will take pity on them, and let them live. Their stupid little brain clings to that little hope because it has nowhere left to turn. So fear turns into irrationality. Maybe if she begged, maybe if she pleaded for her life, he wouldn’t put a bullet right between her pretty little eyes.

Rhys twisted and flared in Jack’s skull beating relentlessly on all the areas that hurt the most. His being flowed through the mechanical arm frantically, causing pain to sear through Jack’s body.

“JACK NO!!!! STOP!!!!!” Rhys cried out wildly, his voice berating every single nerve in Jack’s makeup.

The fucking kid was just so goddamned _loud._ God he was fucking loud, pounding and kicking and screaming. Jack clutched his temple with his free hand, the echo port aching hollowly as Rhys pressed against it.

“CUT IT OUT KID!!! SHE HAS TO DIE!!! SHE’S A THREAT!!!” Jack bellowed out loud.

Fiona could only watch as Rhys stumbled backward a tad, legs buckling slightly, his fingers messing through his hair, clutching and grasping as if in pain. She could only look on in horror as he screamed at himself, or some imaginary entity, firing back responses to questions and comments that she could not hear. It was like listening to only one side of an Echo call, and she was missing half of the information needed to put two and two together.

“NO SHE DOESN’T SHE’S MY FRIEND AND I WON’T LET YOU DO THIS JACK!!!!” Rhys screamed forcing into the mechanical arm, getting enough control to grab up at the pistol and lower the barrel slightly, taking the danger off of Fiona for a moment.

Fiona stepped backward in sheer fright, unsure if she should grab for the pistol at her side or not.

“SHE KNOWS SOMETHING IS GOING ON HERE KID, SHE COULD SELL US OUT!!!” Jack snarled back at Rhys, forcing the pistol upward again.

Rhys beat against Jack’s temples, pressing up behind his sockets, the echo eye twisting and focusing wildly, confusion settling over the implant.

“RHYS YOU’RE GOING TO SHORT CIRCUIT SOMETHING IF YOU DON’T STOP!!!!” Jack commanded viciously.

“I DON’T CARE I WON’T FUCKING LET YOU DO THIS!!!” Rhys yelled his voice echoing through Jack like a ringing gong.

“You don’t have a choice kiddo.” Jack snarled before aiming the gun, and pulling the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Throws confetti and glitter because I know this was the worst cliffhanger ever and I am sorry...but at the same time...I am not sorry...MWAHAHAHAHAHA*  
> Now please excuse me while I furiously write the follow up chapter to this because I really don't wanna leave y'all hanging with this tremendous cliffhanger for too long. D:


	9. Leave All Your Skeletons Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sorta short, sweet and to the point. Oh and sad. It's sad. Sorry ;3;

Leave All Your Skeletons Behind

The shot tore through the otherwise silent darkness like a stone shattering glass. The pistol smoked in Rhys’ quivering palms, whispers of white mist disappearing up into the inky blackness. Rhys’ ears rang with the intensity of the shot, his eyes wide and still as he stared down the gun barrel. Fiona stood staring back at Rhys, her eyes just as wide and just as fearful as the amber haired man’s. A perfect little bullet hole decorated the old wall just to the left of Fiona’s head.

Rhys threw the gun down as he realized what exactly was still in his fingers, flinging it away from his body like it were some venomous thing that could bite him at any second. The two stared at each other, Rhys looking down to the gun, then back at Fiona, tears in his eyes, a look of utter distress painted clear as day across his face. Fiona took note of his once again blue and brown gaze, his eyes terrified and apologetic. The look that had been smeared across his thin face mere moments before was gone. That deadly look that had settled deep into his sockets had dissipated and all that was left was an utterly horrified expression. The monster that had stood there before her in moments previous was no longer there, now there was only a shaking man, all the color having drained from his face, eyes staring down at his hands in disbelief at what they had nearly done.

Fiona took a step backward from Rhys, her eyes shifting over the slender man warily. Rhys made a low sound in his throat and flexed his fingers hesitantly, his knees quivering slightly as if threatening to give out at any second. His eyes met with Fiona’s once more, eyebrows pushed together in dismay.

“Fiona…” Rhys whispered attempting to take a step toward.

Fiona pressed herself against the wall and ripped her own pistol from her belt, aiming it shakily at the amber haired man. Rhys felt a tear slide down his dirt and blood stained cheek, recoiling from Fiona slowly, eyes shivering in his sockets.

“Get back…get away from me…” Fiona snarled side stepping around to the left of Rhys, her gun never moving from its aimed position at the young man.

Rhys backed up slowly, nearly tripping over himself as his boots scrambled backward.

“Fiona I-I’m so sorry…I’m sorry….” Rhys sobbed pathetically, his bloodshot eyes dancing in the pale street light just behind him.

Fiona said nothing, just continued to circle around Rhys, mindful to keep a safe distance from him. She treated him the way she’d treat any other wild animal on Pandora…with caution, anticipating a mouth full of razor sharp fangs at any moment. Rhys could hear her breathing raggedly, nearly panting with every step she took. Her body was quivering slightly, adrenaline still coursing through her veins like new fire. Her brown and pink locks hid one of her eyes as they fell lazily in her face. Her finger shook on the trigger, ready to fire, prepared for Rhys to simply lunge toward her at any second.

Rhys did not try to move toward her again, instead he simply stayed glued to the sand, staring at her through wet eyes, his teeth grit together hard.

“Stay back…” Fiona repeated slowly, barrel pointed straight at Rhys’ forehead.

Rhys had never seen such fear in someone’s eyes before. Such raw, utter, untamed fear…and it was all caused…by him. He had done this. He had shaken the very fear of god into his friend’s soul. A fear that tainted her every motion and left her looking like she’d seen some dreadful monster. In a sense…she had. She’d come face to face with a ghost…no…with a demon. If it hadn’t been for Rhys assuming control at the very last second, Fiona would be dead right now. Jack had nearly killed one of the only people Rhys could consider a friend on this horrid planet. Fiona may have been out to stab him in the back at first, but she had saved him many times over, making up for their rocky beginnings. Rhys trusted her with his life, and here he stood before her…nearly becoming the end of her.

That was when it really all made sense to him.

Jack was dangerous. Very, very dangerous. A madman, a monster, a killer. Jack was not just a hologram anymore, he was something tangible, a sickness, set deep inside Rhys’ gut. He was a parasite eating away at his insides. He would never get better, he would never recover from this. Jack was not going anywhere and so this was the way things were to be. Jack would stop at nothing to regain his throne, and who knew what could happen after that was accomplished. So many people had died at Jack’s hands throughout his rule. So much blood had been shed. Rhys had looked up to Jack with such gloriously enthralled eyes. Jack was a hero in his glittering gaze. Jack was an inspiration. But as Rhys stood there, in the dry sand, staring at someone that had once been his friend, that was now terrified…of him, he saw what Jack really was. Jack was a maniac. Jack was a monster. Jack would kill and not feel remorse for it. If Jack saw it to be a benefit, he would destroy anything that got in his path. Jack would kill and kill and kill. Jack would tear away lives and litter the ground with them.

Every last one of Rhys’ friends were suddenly in very real danger. Vaughn, Fiona, Sasha, Yvette…they were all in danger of facing Jack’s wrath. If Jack saw them to be a threat he would simply remove them, just as he had just tried to do with Fiona.

Rhys brought his palms to his eyes, sobbing into them pathetically.

What if he couldn’t stop Jack the next time? What if Jack was stronger next time? What if that bullet found its mark the next time? What if he successfully killed next time? The ‘what ifs’ buzzed around in Rhys brain like an angry swarm of wasps, stinging and shaking so violently, so angrily.

Everything was suddenly so clear in Rhys’ wet eyes. He was the key. Jack’s key. Without him, there was no Jack…then Jack would never make it back to Helios and Jack would never regain his throne. If Rhys did not exist, Jack did not either.

If there was no Rhys, his friends were no longer in danger, and he could save them. He could save them…by sacrificing himself. Rhys’ eyes flickered over Fiona’s form and she had never in her life seen someone look more utterly wrecked. Rhys looked like a mere shell of the man that she had originally met on the day they first tried to con him and Vaughn. His eyes were hollow, his cheeks sunken in and sharp, his lips cracked and nearly bleeding. He was such a sad sight to behold. So lost and so confused.

“W-What…are you…?” Fiona whispered softly voice cracking just slightly.

The comment hit Rhys like a shot to the gut. She hadn’t asked who he was, but _what_ he was. Meaning he was not even in the category of human anymore. He was simply a beast, a creature, a monster. She was right though…god was she ever right…

“Fiona. I need you to listen to me very carefully.” Rhys said suddenly through heavy tears.

Fiona stopped, gun still steady on Rhys and narrowed her eyes at the tall, lanky man.

“Why should I listen to a thing you have to say...?” Fiona snarled shakily.

Rhys looked at her with utterly lost eyes.

“Please Fiona…please…” Rhys nearly begged.

Fiona sucked in a sharp breath and nodded her head slowly.

“Tell Vaughn…that I’m sorry. Please tell him I’m so sorry…and that I’ll miss him. Tell him to buy Yvette lunch for me every Wednesday. Tell him everything in the apartment that was mine is his. Tell him to take care of himself…and take care of Yvette. Tell them both how much they mean to me. Please Fiona…just do that for me…that’s all I ask.” Rhys whispered screwing his eyes shut tightly.

Fiona just looked at him with distraught pupils, her lips pulled tight across her thin features.

“Rhys what are you talking about?...What are you saying…?” Fiona questioned slowly.

Despite Rhys nearly murdering her in cold blood just seconds before, her heart was suddenly sore for the man before her. He was falling apart before her very eyes, his seams coming undone like loose threads. She had never before seen such an utterly defeated being. She wanted to help and yet she was mortified and she did not know how.

“Rhys…” She whispered softly lowering her gun gently and tucking it back in her belt.

Somehow, someway she sensed there was no longer danger here. No, there was no danger to be had amongst the broken young man. There was only a defeated, sad soul standing so hollow and so shattered before her.

“Let me help you…” Fiona whispered.

“It’s going to be ok…” She tried to step toward the young man, but he backed away as if he’d been brushed by open flames.

“You can’t help me. Nobody can help me. I’m sick Fiona. Really sick. This sickness is going to destroy me…and it will destroy you too. It nearly did already…” Rhys hissed through thick tears.

Fiona let her hand drop to her side and felt her heart begin to drum within her ribs.

“Rhys…I don’t understand…” Fiona whispered.

“It’s better if you didn’t.” Rhys interjected.

A silence settled over the two counterparts. A silence that was as heavy as a thick blanket in the wintertime. Too hot and too warm, strangling around them like clenching fingers.

“Will you do that for me? Will you promise me that Fiona?” Rhys whispered turning his face away from her in shame.

“But Rhys…please…” Fiona begged him once more.

“Promise me Fiona!” Rhys exclaimed his voice sharp and scared.

Fiona bit her bottom lip harshly.

“I promise.” She whispered back softly.

“I’m going away Fiona. I’m dangerous. Dangerous to you and Vaughn and everybody else I care about. I can’t stay here. I can’t…I have to…go.” Rhys stuttered his breaths broken by tears.

“For how long…?” Fiona questioned.

Really…she knew the answer…she knew the answer she just didn’t want to believe it. Rhys was a good person, he may have once been some Hyperion fuck, but deep down he was good. He had a good soul and a big heart.

“I’m not coming back Fiona.” Rhys stated coldly, his words dropping out of the air like heavy stones.

Fiona nodded slowly, her eyes sad and understanding.

Rhys lent her one last tear stained look and turned. With Jack dormant within him, he had to go now. If he had any hope of carrying out his plans, he had to leave tonight. He had to leave everything he’d ever known behind him. He had to leave it all and never look back.

Rhys had never truly been on his own before. He’d always had Vaughn there as a crutch to lean on. He and the other man had been through hell and high water together. That was what made the entire thing so hard. He knew he couldn’t say goodbye to him. There was still a slim chance Jack could awaken again and Rhys had a feeling he was not going to be happy about the entire situation. Rhys had gone against his will and he had a sinking feeling Jack would be out for blood the next time he came around. Rhys couldn’t put Vaughn in danger like that. He only hoped that Vaughn would understand why he had to do this. He only hoped Vaughn would forgive him eventually. This was just the way things had to be. Destiny had not been kind to him, and fate had not been soft. Everything was backwards and everything was damaged.

Rhys left the small city behind his turned back, leaving only footsteps upon the sand in his wake. At dawn, it would be as if he was never there. He left behind everything he knew. He left behind friends and enemies and torn pieces of his life. He left a dead man, killed with his own two hands, and he left tattered relationships. He left them all there, because there was nothing else to do…except leave.

And so he did.

He left it all.


	10. We All Become Phantoms Eventually

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *squeals and runs around in circles* ok so this is the chapter I have been waiting to write since I started this story. Here comes the plot twist *explosion noises* things are about to get wild, so buckle up kiddies! :D

We All Become Phantoms Eventually

Mismatched eyes looked up to the sun in dismay and utter defeat. Mismatched eyes that were lost beyond all hope. Mismatched eyes that looked up to the simmering, fiery light casting down upon them with surrender in their pupils.

The sun beat down on his back like an angry thing, its heat seeping through his clothes right down to his skin, causing sweat to collect up between the material. Defeated was not enough of a word to describe the young man. Defeat did not even come close. He had not been defeated, he had simply let go of everything, waved the white flag high in the air, and pronounced that he was done. This was over and he was tired of fighting. The fight wasn’t worth it, the fight was too long. It strained on his every bone, every muscle until he ached beyond repair. He didn’t want to hurt anymore, and he was tired…he was just so tired. He was ready to just lie down and not get back up. He was so tired and all he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep in the hot, scorching sand, let the sun burn his pale skin and split his chapped lips.

Rhys wanted to strip his shirt up over his head, maybe to give him a little relief from the heat, but he just couldn’t find the energy within himself. So he suffered, wrapped in the hot, thick, clothing that seemed to strangle around his throat and tighten around his shoulders.

The sun had risen once, twice, and now it had settled high in the sky on its third day. Three days too many without food or water. Rhys’ tongue felt like dust in his mouth, his throat burning for the sweet taste of water, but there was none to be had out here. There was nothing out here. Just endless dunes of sand, dust whipping over the landscape and pelting Rhys’ sore skin. Everything within him hurt. His skin had been beaten relentlessly by the wind, and burned by the sun so much so that every time his clothing brushed against him it _stung._ He couldn’t even tell what hurt the most anymore, his lungs from breathing the hot, stale air, his legs from wonderingly aimlessly across this hellish place, or his heart that felt broken into several jagged pieces. Everything was just shattered within him.

But this was his choice. To do this.

He could have just asked Fiona to put a goddamned bullet between his eyes, really he could have. Then this entire thing would have been that much quicker, and painless. But in the back of his head, he knew that wouldn’t have worked. Jack would have found some way to take over, he wouldn’t have allowed for that. But that aside he didn’t want Fiona to have to have that on her hands. She didn’t deserve that, and it would not have been fair of him to ask. So this…this was the only way he saw fit.

To simply wander away into the dust, and let Pandora have him.

Rhys’ body was so weak, his feet dragging through the sand like lead weights, barely moving him forward anymore. He had no set destination, his only motive to simply get himself as lost as possible out here in the hellfire sands. To simply wander until his body finally gave out. He’d been weak yesterday, so very weak, the lack of water finally getting to him. Today was an entirely different story, today he was far beyond weak, he was barely able to stand, barely able to think. Everything within him screamed for water, for its sweet relief, it was getting to his brain, his body. It was caving him in, so very fucking slowly, but he could feel it drawing nearer. The edges of his vision had begun to get blurrier, and his head pounded against his temples unforgiving and hard. The headache had set in yesterday, and it was only worse today.

Jack screaming in his ear did not help the situation.

Rhys could see the hologram just in the peripherals of his vision, flickering in and out rapidly. Jack’s mouth was moving, but in Rhys’ blur he could barely hear him anymore. Everything was just moving in slow motion now, nothing really made sense anymore. He was far past the point of no return, and he could feel his body deteriorating beneath him.

Jack screamed something at him, swiping an angry fist through Rhys’ chest. Rhys paused for a moment, barely feeling the familiar ache of the static coursing through him. He barely felt it anymore. His body just couldn’t muster the will for it to actually hurt anymore. Jack retracted his hand, running frantic fingers through his wild hair, pupils blown and eyes panicked. The past few days had been a constant battle of keeping Jack from assuming control. The first day he’d managed to take it for a few hours, trying desperately to find any sort of civilization without prevail. When Jack had tired himself out, leaving Rhys’ body in a miserable state, more lost than they had been originally, Rhys had simply continued on. The point was to simply wander…until he couldn’t anymore. Rhys had calculated it would take about three or four days for terminal dehydration to really set in, and he had been spot on with that assumption. The intense heat of Pandora only seemed to help the process along. By the second day Rhys had been far too weak for Jack to take over, his body simply rejecting the other man over and over again. His constant trying had only left Rhys’ Echo port throbbing and his body even weaker than before. Jack had realized too late that his desperate attempts to save the kid were only killing him faster.

It was a sickening thing, to watch a man go mad.

Jack was trapped on a sinking ship that he couldn’t get off of. So he was going down too, only able to watch as Rhys broke apart in tattered pieces.

Now, as they entered the third day, Jack could only watch helplessly as the kid slowly slipped away.

Suddenly Rhys teetered a little where he stood…and limply fell forward into the sand, his legs cramping up into twisted knots and finally giving out. They just couldn’t go another step forward. This was it, the final fleeting moments. Rhys could taste the grit of the sand in his mouth, the substance gnashing between his teeth uncomfortably. His cheek pressed against the simmering ground, the hot grains burning his tender skin. He didn’t care. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. Everything would be ok. It would all be ok. His friends were safe, this planet was safe. Everybody was safe. There was no other way. As long as Jack existed within him…this is what he had to do. Jack couldn’t make it back to Helios, he couldn’t be left alive. If Jack had to die…the only way was for Rhys to die too.

Rhys exhaled heavily, his breath causing the sand to skitter away from his bloody lips, the crimson liquid staining the pale granules just slightly as it dribbled down his chin. He brushed his open palm across the soft sand, feeling its heat beneath his skin, shifting the thick dune lazily. He closed his eyes for a moment, then let them open back into little slits, staring out into a desert wasteland as far as the eye could see. This wasn’t such a bad way to go he supposed. It hurt, really it did. Everything inside him was begging for water, seeming to shrivel into dust within his body so very fucking slowly. But in the same breath it didn’t. Jack constantly trying to jam his fingers into his Echo port hurt more than anything else. Jack’s emotions had gone from blind anger, to trying to reason with Rhys, to anger again, to threatening Rhys…which didn’t make much of an impact to a man that was ready to die. Jack had seemed to realize this eventually. You can’t threaten a man that was intent on death anyway.

Jack had shifted into more anger as he realized he could literally do nothing to change the situation. That was about where he was now, an angry phantom berating Rhys with curses and spitting venom down on the amber haired boy.

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO US RHYS!!!!” Jack bellowed his voice overcome with static for a moment before recollecting and becoming clear once more.

Rhys said nothing, simply laid in the sand, listening to his own shallow breaths, trying to ignore Jack’s screams. It didn’t matter anyway. Jack could scream all he wanted, it wouldn’t change a thing. Rhys couldn’t get up even if he wanted to now. He couldn’t change his mind now. He was too far gone. There was no turning back now. Rhys was ready to meet the choice he’d made. He was ok with this. It was all ok. It was better this way.

When Rhys did not answer Jack made a distressed noise and circled around the still man frantically, yelling out into the dust, his voice echoing in Rhys’ ears.

“Rhys, Rhys please!!! GET UP!!! GOD DAMNED IT GET UP!!! WE CAN’T DIE LIKE THIS!!!” Jack half begged half threatened, his voice sharp and ragged as it came forth from his lips.

Deep set panic flooded through his words, and it was something Rhys had never before witnessed in the maniacal other man. Jack was afraid of dying. He was just a hologram of the real Jack, so he had no memory of his death the first time. He didn’t know what it felt like, Nakayama hadn’t programmed that into him. Why would he? But Jack was programmed to fear death just like anybody else, and here out in the scorched sands, he was afraid…he was so afraid.

His voice shook with terror as he pounded Rhys’ ears with more yelling.

“RHYS!!! WE WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE IT ALL!! WE WERE SUPPOSED TO RULE THIS PLANET TOGETHER!!! HOW COULD YOU…HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!?!?” Jack bellowed his eyes rolling around in his sockets as he stormed over to the limp man once more and pressed his thumb to the echo port.

Rhys winced only slightly and the port gave a little spark as it rejected Jack for the hundredth time. Jack made a strained noise and fell back onto his knees.

“GODDAMN IT RHYS PLEASE!!!” Jack snarled burying his head in his hands, utter realization that he was going to die washing over him like a flood, drowning him with everything it had.

Rhys shook his head slowly, the motion barely visible to Jacks wild eyes.

“I couldn’t….I couldn’t let you kill any more people….I couldn’t let you kill my friends…” Rhys wheezed through bleeding lips, his heavy eyelids nearly closed.

His voice was so soft Jack could barely make out the words. Jack stood angrily, letting loose an exasperated scream.

“I SHOULD HAVE KILLED THEM ALL TO BEGIN WITH YOU WORTHLESS LITTLE FUCK!!! YOU ARE NO BETTER THAN THESE BANDITS!!! YOU ARE JUST LIKE THEM!! I THOUGHT YOU WERE DIFFERENT RHYS!! I THOUGHT YOU SHARED MY VISION!!!! YOU HAD SO MUCH POTENTIAL!!!” Jack roared his fingers trying to grab at Rhys’ throat in his blind rage, but as usual they only phased right through the flesh.

Rhys closed his eyes tiredly. He was just so tired. It felt like he hadn’t slept in years and everything in him just wanted to simply…sleep.

“But you threw it all away….and for WHAT!? FOR WHAT RHYS!?!?” Jack snarled his voice cracking harshly.

“I had to protect them all…from you…you’re a monster Jack…” Rhys panted coughing into the sand weakly.

Jack’s eyes flared with white hot anger.

“A MONSTER!?!? A MONSTER!?!? LOOK AROUND YOU RHYS!! THESE ARE THE MONSTERS! THESE BANDITS ARE THE MONSTERS!!! I COULD HAVE _SAVED_ THIS PLANET!! I COULD HAVE _CHANGED_ THIS PLACE. I COULD HAVE _CIVILIZED_ IT!!!” Jack spat, his hologram jittering into pieces, breaking apart wildly, then reforming once more.

“We would have ruled Hyperion again…we would have been Kings Rhys….kings…” Jack breathed panting wildly and slowly sinking down onto the ground, resting his arms over his drawn up knees.

Rhys said nothing. Simply laid on the hot sand and let his body slip away.

“I could have made you…” Jack continued his eyes wide and stained with confusion.

“I’m not supposed to die like this…” He whispered in a hushed voice.

Rhys was no longer responding and Jack could feel the boy’s heartbeat just barely thumping against his chest. Jack was pretty sure he’d slipped into an unconscious state. Jack let his shoulders fall in dismay. No matter how angry he got, how much he yelled, it wouldn’t change this.

Nothing would change it.

 

 

The beast’s feet pounded over the hot sand, kicking up dust behind its haunches as it leapt skillfully over a big dune, bracing and sliding down the other side. The occupant on the massive creatures back pulled the reigns taught, fingers curling and twisting the old, thick leather, turning the great animal to the right. Spurred heels jutted into its ribs, urging it faster over the dunes, its claws digging perfect little divots in the grains. The monster’s tongue lolled out of its mouth as it panted over massive teeth, grunting and snorting as the hot breath entered and exited its flaring lungs. Its powerful limbs carried it over the dust, utter strength rippling out over thundering front limbs and propelling haunches. Its rider swayed with its every jarring movement, leaning forward over the creatures shoulder slightly. The rider urged the beast forward with a few heavy kicks and the monster gave a loud roar in response, muscles working harder to send it flying over the barren wasteland. The all too familiar drone of a bandit technical kissed at the riders ears and the great Skag perked its head in the direction the sound had come from. Leather reigns slapped against the monster’s neck and it lowered its head, driving toward the bandit technical with great force. The vehicle was but a speck over the sands, flicking over the dunes, kicking up a cloud of dust that could be seen miles away.

“Gotcha.” The figure snarled as the skag snorted wildly and shook some drool from its jaws, pounding toward the circling vehicle.

Mighty paws beat the soft sand as the great creature closed in on the technical. The engine roared over the landscape, its sound beating against the rider’s ears mercilessly. A psycho looked over the railing of the technical and caught sight of the approaching animal and rider. He threw his masked face back and shook his buzz axe up toward the sky screaming undecipherable curses to the sun. The masked man reared back and tossed his buzz axe in the skag's direction, the animal dodging the whirring weapon skillfully. Another Psycho crawled up out of the cab to join his counterpart in screaming at the tailing rider.

With that the bandit perched in back, swiveled the mini-gun propped up on the technical’s side and began firing rapidly. The rider pulled back on the skag harshly, causing it to fall back and sweep to the technical’s left, just out of range of the spray of bullets. Sand kicked into the riders face harshly, the skag snorting and frothing with the intake of dust to its mouth. The rider pulled a small object from his coat pocket and brought the item to his lips, blowing into it, a low whistle coming forth from its end. A loud cry ripped across the blazing sky suddenly, causing both Psychos to look skyward, tilting their heads back in utter confusion. The otherwise perfect sky was suddenly filled with massive black wings as another cry sounded over the landscape. A large black rakk fell violently from the sky, swooping down upon the technical, surrounding the vehicle in leathery black wings. It picked off the Bandit at the gun first, jaws snapping closed around the man’s neck, and ripping his throat out with ease. Both Psychos leapt from the vehicle, attempting to get away from the monster’s teeth and claws. The rakk lifted its head, eyes rolling in its head and blood lolling off its bottom jaw. The rider whistled again, and pointed back at the Psychos that had abandoned their post on the technical. The rakk threw back its head, sending loose an ear splitting cry that echoed off the dunes and with several mighty flaps of its ebony wings it was swooping past the rider in search of new prey.

The rider let loose of the skag’s reigns for a moment, un-strapping a massive weapon from his back and hauling the huge thing into his arms. It looked to be a rocket launcher of some sort, big and heavy, glowering as the thing whirred to life and charged. The rider peered through the weapon’s site and honed in on the now swerving technical. His finger hovered on the trigger, waiting for just the right moment to let loose of the round. The rider drew in a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. The round fired off in a set of three missiles, all shooting toward the technical and finding their target with a great explosion of thunder and fire. The vehicle flipped several times before landing on its roof and skidding to a stop in the sand. A lone flaming tire bounced off into the dunes and there was the telltale sound of the technical’s engine slowly dying.

Fire crackled and sputtered as it caught around the now trashed vehicle. The great skag galloped to a slow stop, staying just far enough away from the flickering flames to keep safe. It shook its great head and let loose of a ragged snort. The rider let the reigns fall slack on the beast’s back and swung a leg up and over the saddle, feet thudding to the sand with a little puff of dust. The rider sauntered around the great skag, opening one of the side saddle bags slowly. From it he pulled a small container that looked a bit like a grenade. The rider walked toward the flaming car, boots crunching the sand slowly. He tossed the grenade toward the wrecked vehicle and the thing exploded in a flash of white, spraying out a freezing element that instantly cooled the fires rage. The vehicle laid dormant then, the fire having been put out, it just sat there, a large heap of damaged metal. The rider’s hands found his hips casually and he cocked his head at the now ruined technical.

He slapped his hand against his pant leg twice, signaling for the skag to follow him and the creature pranced to his side cooing and gurgling fondly. He patted the large creatures head and took hold of the reigns lightly leading the skag closer to the wreckage. The skag swung its head impatiently and watched as the rider went to the saddle bags once more, this time pulling out an array of tools and parts. The rider patted the skag’s neck as he passed and it chirped at him lowly.

“This is one of those modified techincals. Should have some good scrap.” The rider muttered to the skag and the beast quivered its jaws in response to his rough voice.

“Shove this thing over would you pumpkin.” The rider grumbled to the big skag.

The skag pressed its big head to the side of the vehicle and rammed its shoulder against it hard, the technical teetering dangerously and finally falling upright onto the three wheels it still had left. The rider looked on approvingly and went about popping the dented hood of the vehicle. The hood gave a loud squeal before simply falling right off, leaving the engine open and exposed. The rider shrugged and grabbed a massive wrench from the tool bag at his feet.

Pieces and parts came loose from the beat of technical, oil spraying on the ground as internals of the mechanical beast were ripped out. The rider went about filling both saddle bags on the skag’s sides with an assortment of confiscated parts pulled from the inner workings. The skag stood loyally, shifting its weight from foot to foot as the rider took his time searching over the wreckage meticulously.

Suddenly there was the sound of wings beating the air coming closer. The rider looked up to the sky from behind his hood and smiled as the big rakk landed on the edge of the technical and folded its wings, growling and ruffling its spikes. Blood stained down its front and neck, medals of honor from its most recent kill. The big rakk slid down the technical crooning its muzzle down toward the rider, looking for praise insistently. The rider patted its big snout.

“Yeah, yeah you did good you big dumb thing.” The rider muttered hauling out some sort of tubing and stashing it in the skags’ pouch.

Suddenly the big rakk perched up its head and growled a little in its throat, eyes darting out over the desert curiously. The rider paused, up to his elbows in oil and grease and his eyes followed the big animal’s line of vision.

There was a dark spot out in the desert, something lying on the dunes lifelessly. The rider screwed up his nose and climbed up on the technical’s top to get a better look. The rakk tilted its head and chirped lowly, fluttering its wings a little and shifting its weight on its perch.

“What the fuck is that…?” The rider whispered squinting his eyes out into the dust.

There was a small mechanical hiss as his Echo eye adjusted, whirring and scanning over the small mass of black lying across the sand.

It was a _man._ Barely alive but the looks of it, and he had a warrant out for his capture issued by Hyperion themselves. The rider let loose of a small ‘huh’ and furrowed his brow. The kid must have done something really bad in order to earn himself a warrant from Helios that was for damned sure. They wanted this kid _bad_ too. Nearly a two million dollar reward on his head .

The rider whistled under his breath and jumped off the technical his boots landing hard in the sand. He sauntered briskly over to the eager skag and hauled himself back up into the saddle gracefully. He tugged on the reigns sharply, pulling the beast’s head urgently.

“Whaddya say we go take a look.” He grumbled as he gave the Skag a kick and it began to gallop off into the direction of the man.

The skag’s limbs carried it swiftly to the lifeless body’s side, big paws shifting over the sand as it approached uneasily. The rider slid off the saddle skillfully and narrowed his eyes at the unusual scene splayed out before him. The kid had on tattered clothes that at some point in time must have been some really nice duds. The rider circled around the kid slowly, accessing the damages thoughtfully. The rider leaned down next to the kid’s lips. He was still breathing, but just barely. The rider crooned backward and pressed his boot into the man’s shoulder, giving him a less than gentle kick, rolling him onto his back. The kid gave a small whisper of a groan but ultimately did not move. The rider hummed in his throat looking over the amber haired male with keen eyes. His shirt had Hyperion stamped across it, so obviously he’d done a little double crossing in his company. The rider chuckled lightly, hell that whole corporation was built on double crossing. That whole space station was just one big ball of back stabbers. But that only left him to wonder, what was so horrible that this kid had done? In a company full of liars and murderers, what in hells names could this kid have done to earn him a two million dollar bounty.

The rider grunted and his eyes flicked over the cybernetic arm lying limply at his side. Hyperion tech that was for sure. His gaze then went to the small Echo port on the young man’s temple. The rider forced open the man’s eyelids with his thumbs and sure enough his left eye was Echo. Odd. The Rider’s own echo eye focused with a small whirr. Maybe he had some really important information stored up in that echo device or something. The kid didn’t even so much as flinch when the rider tapped on his port hard. The kid was in rough shape, really rough shape. The rider quickly whistled for the skag and it pranced over slowly. The rider hauled the kid up by his shoulders and propped him up against the skag’s massive front leg. The kid made a low noise in his throat and nearly slumped over if the big skag hadn’t turned and nuzzled him upright once more. The rider grabbed a canteen off the saddle strap and unscrewed the cap. He tilted the young man’s head back and let the cool water pour down his throat, some dribbling over his blood stained chin. The amber haired man coughed a little, then crooned his neck forward, subtly begging for more. The rider nodded slightly and allowed the young man to nearly finish off the canteen, he had more anyway. This kid needed it more than he did. The hood of his clothing fell over his eyes slightly as he touched over the young man’s jaw, keeping his head steady. The big skag cooed slightly, watching intently as the young man shifted a little, slowly coming back from the brink, eyes rolling beneath heavy lids.

Jack flickered up next to Rhys, watching with intent, thankful eyes. He had no idea who this fucker was, but he was going to save Rhys. He was going to save _them._

“You’re lucky this fucking bandit came along and saved your sorry ass kiddo, oh when you aren’t a god damned vegetable I’m going beat some goddamned _sense_ into you. Goddamned ungrateful little shit!” Jack snarled to a still unconscious Rhys.

The rider let the canteen drop right out of his fingers and spill onto the sand, the precious liquid seeping into the dirt, quickly turning into brown mud. The rider stumbled backward frantically and Jack turned to look in his direction casually, eyes narrowing over confused eyes.

“W-What the fuck!?!?” The rider yelped taking several steps back from the kid, eyes shaking from beneath the shadow of his hood.

Jack stood, flickering in and out slightly and crossed his arms across his chest slowly.

He took several steps toward the seemingly shaken rider and the man scrambled backward at the progression. Jack recoiled slightly in realization.

“Wait..wait you can _see_ me!?” Jack snarled stepping closer to the other man in shock.

The rider watched the hologram warily, his eyes fiercely confused.

“Of course I can fucking see you…w-what _are_ you!?!” The rider snapped watching as the Handsome Jack look-alike closed in on him, sauntering toward him with that all too familiar confident stride.

“Woah, woah, woah, now this… _this_ is a very interesting development indeed!” Jack said in a sing song fashion, moving his finger in a slow circle.

The rider’s eyes squinted out from beneath his hood.

“I’m a ghost…well sorta I suppose. See it’s really a fucking long story. One I’m not sure I should be sharing with a filthy bandit actually. What’s more important, isn’t _what_ I am, but _who_ I am. I’m Handsome Jack kitten, and you are? You may be a bandit, but you saved my little friend's ass, so I’d at least like to know your name.” Jack quipped looking at the other man casually.

The other man seemed to stiffen slightly, fists balled tight at his sides. His hands suddenly snapped up to his hood, clutching around the thin material and ripping it backward exposing his face to the hologram boldly.

Jack’s face fell a little, mouth hanging open slightly, eyes searching frantically over the man’s expression.

“First off, I’m no bandit pumpkin.” The rider snarled through perfect teeth and curled lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNN :D


	11. Ghosts in the Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys here is the much awaited follow up chapter to my last cliffhanger!!! I hope everybody likes where I took this and overall I am super pleased!! :D Please enjoy! and also there will be more notes at the end of this explaining some things! :D

Ghosts in the Mirror

There was an echo in the back of his head. Instinct told him it was Jack, but the harder he listened, the more he paid attention, the more he realized it was not. It was soft, soothing almost, like nothing he’d ever heard before. Something calming and subtle as it traced along the shell of his ear and nestled itself snugly beside his eardrum. It kissed at his hearing like some long lost lover, so soft and so pleasant. It had him wanting after the sound, following it with all his senses. He breathed it, sensed it on his skin, took it into his tender nostrils coming away with a sweet scent that cause pleasant little tingles to scatter down his body. He’s never felt so incredibly light. His whole body just feels so…weightless. It’s dark. Dark all around him, and suddenly he wonders why. He can see small scatters of light gently prying through the darkness. Rhys cracks open his eyes gently, lids coming open ever so slowly. His eyes are sleepy as they adjust to his surroundings, taking it in with wonder and an easy sense of serenity. He’s floating, down deep in an endless pool of crystal clear water. He opens his mouth slowly, allowing a small bubble of air to come loose and go rushing toward the surface. He watches it with enthralled eyes, the mystery of this wonderful place washing over him.

He brings his hand to his face, the weightlessness of the water causing his entire body to simply feel at ease. He’s never felt so pleasant. So happy. So relaxed. Everything is ok as the water surrounds his naked flesh. It’s not cold around him, and it is not warm. It is simply pleasant and wet, and heavy. He tilts his head back gently, looking toward the surface that seems to be miles above him. Shimmering rays of sunlight break through the water’s surface and dance over him in gentle cascading ribbons. Everything is a glorious greenish blue, shards of pinks and dark cyan rippling with the water’s gentle motion. So he just floats there, the occasional bubble coming loose from his lips, his loose hair drifting around him in lazy wisps. Nothing burdens him. Nothing seems to matter here. Everything is as it should be. Everything is right. He smiles slowly, more air coming from his lips. This is a good place. He can tell. He knows it deep in his gut. Deep in his marrow.

Suddenly there is a flicker of movement to his far left, his peripherals struggling to catch a better view of it. Rhys turns his head slowly, and there is movement to his right. Something darting around him gracefully, quickly, just fast enough to keep out of his line of vision. The water rushes in his ears, the sound of something darting through the substance surrounding him. There’s a flick of a tail, a movement too serpentine to be human, too sleek to be animal. It’s something hanging in the balance of both. The way it swims is so similar to the way a ribbon dances in the breeze, twisting in on itself, twirling, winding, moving through the water with such ease it causes Rhys’ breath to catch in his throat.

Then it is right there, face to face with him, stilling its wild twisting motion to simply float before the young man in a mirroring effect. Rhys’ eyes search over its long snout, he wants to say it looks canine, but the reptilian eyes and scales covering its brows tell a different story. Two long twisting horns jut up from the top of its head and long wispy spines float gently around it, like a bed of sea grass growing down its long thin back. Big claws are dormant as it floats and it stares, tail lolls behind it, swaying only with the water’s current. It is so beautiful…body the color of freshly fallen snow, each scale shimmering with hues of pinks, greens and blues, intermixing with pale white to create something mesmerizing. Its eyes are golden, like two coals set in its deep skull. It is like a ghost, floating there in the shadow of the water, seeming to glow brilliantly in the reflections.

The thing growls, the sound muffled beneath the water, lips curling back to display rows of large pearly fangs. But Rhys isn’t scared. Somehow this thing is not frightening to him, and so he just floats and watches. Watches its golden, intelligent eyes as they dart over his much smaller form. Rhys wants to ask why it is here. He wants to ask what it is. He wants to ask where it came from. He wants to ask where they are. But the sound never comes and the words stick to his throat.

“You can’t stay here.” The creature whispers, its voice somehow clear as crystal on the boy’s ears even underneath the water.

Rhys asks why, but it only comes loose as a flurry of bubbles and muffled sounds.

“Because there are things you have not finished yet.” It says its voice like soft fingers drawing down Rhys’ spine.

Rhys lets the words soak down into his bones and he looks to the fantastic creature with understanding eyes.

“Can I ever come back here?” Rhys asks and more bubbles rush to the surface.

The large creature simply nods, its spines shifting with the motion, horns ducking gently.

“Some day. But not today. Today you have to go home.” The creature whispers.

In a rush of bubbles and a flick of its long tail it turns and it is gone, gone into the endless waters, gone from Rhys’ vision. Suddenly Rhys’ lungs scream for oxygen. He chokes, a single bubble breaking from his lips, his frantic hands claw at his throat, and he looks skyward, to the shimmering surface. His feet push off the bottom with a great thrust, sending the bottom sediment scattering in a dusty cloud. Feet move, hands pump, and body writhes as he pushes toward the top, clawing for the surface desperately. His body breaks the surface with one great thrust, mouth coming open wide to gasp for fresh air.

Rhys’ eyes snapped open, sucking in a sharp breath as his body startled awake. He snapped upward into a sitting position, hangs clinging to the collar of his shirt frantically, only to find that the material was dry and breathing was easy. He wasn’t soaking wet as he’d assumed he’d be, and the serene waters that had been swallowing him only moments before were now gone. Everything had disintegrated away and he was left to assess a very unfamiliar, new environment. Rhys flexed his fingers slowly, his confused brain coming back into focus and taking in his new surroundings. His mismatched eyes swept over the room slowly, taking in the space he now occupied.

He dropped his fingers to his sides, and they touched over billowing comforters. The bedding was soft and strange beneath his human palm. His echo eye shifted and focused, coming back to life stubbornly. He shifted and stretched his robotic arm, and everything seemed to be in working order. Rhys raised a hand to his forehead, he still had a nagging headache throbbing in his temples, but it was fading slowly. His focus went back to the bigger question of…where was he? Rhys let his hands splay over the soft bedding around him in curiosity. It was a lot nicer than anything he’d seen in his little ventures over Pandora thus far. As his arm moved he caught sight of a small tube connected to his human arm. Rhys’ eyes flicked down to the IV attached to him, a small pouch of fluid hanging over his bedside. He furrowed his eyebrows together hard and scanned around the room. It was a large space, seeming to be a weird marriage of hospital room, and bedroom. Some aspects were like a clinic, the sink in the corner, the table laid out with medical tools. But other things were homey and inviting, the queen sized bed Rhys sat in covered with a patterned comforter, the dresser by the wall, the brown tiling making up the flooring.

Rhys activated his Echo eye, scanning the room slowly, seeing if his echo system could possibly tell him what his location was. His eye scanned and worked, then flashed with a red ‘No Results’ symbol. No results? How the fuck could it have come up with _no results._ Whatever this place was, it wasn’t on the Hyperion map of Pandora, and that in itself was unnerving. Rhys breathed out slowly. He was alone in the room, the only sounds pricking at his ears being his own breathing and the clacking of the overhead fan that seemed to have an uneven spin.

Rhys slid his fingers down over his face. He was alive. The last thing he could remember was collapsing out in the desert, ready to die, ready to give in, and everything had gone black. He’d welcomed death in with open arms and he had accepted his fate. Was he dead maybe? Maybe this was what the afterlife was like. Rhys rubbed his palms against his eye sockets and breathed in deep. He didn’t feel dead. Everything felt stunningly normal, his body felt the same, his echo implants felt the same…it didn’t feel like death, or a dream, or some other world. It felt real…but Rhys couldn’t be for certain. Everything was so confusing as it scattered around in his head. 

Rhys sighed and allowed his absolutely exhausted body to lie back down against the overly soft mattress. Right then, it didn’t matter how, or why. He didn’t really much care. His body was tired and heavy, his soul needed rest and he just suddenly wanted to do nothing but sleep. It suddenly didn’t matter that he wasn’t dressed in his usual clothes. It didn’t matter that he was now sporting only grey boxers and a large, baggy yellow shirt. It didn’t matter that he had no idea where he was. He could have been captured by bandits, or Hyperion, or another corporation. He could be being held captive. He could only have hours to live. Yet he didn’t care. His head hit the pillow and he nestled down into it, breathing a long, loud sigh. Everything was ok because he was ok. He had no idea if he was alive, or dead, or somewhere in-between but that was ok. The blankets were warm, and his body simply melted into them. His tired eyes closed once more and Rhys allowed his body to drift off into some odd form of half slumber. Not full sleep, just barely on the brink of dreams.

Rhys was unsure of how long he stayed in that state, minutes, hours? He wasn’t positive. He was slowly shaken out of his dream state by the sound of footsteps. Rhys opened one eye gently, the brown one, groaning outwardly and shifting his hand along the mattress.

He blinked once, twice, three times, his vision blurry and strained.

There was a clatter of someone dropping metal onto the nearby countertop and Rhys’ eyes immediately went to the direction the sound had come from.

His fuzzy vision could just barely make out the outline of what looked to be a figure, but in his sleepy haze it was hard to tell.

“Hey! You’re awake! Well welcome back to the living kiddo!” Came a voice that was all too familiar on Rhys’ ears.

Where had he heard that voice?

He knew that voice. Fuck he did. Rhys screwed up his face in confusion, leaning up in his elbow just slightly. Rhys rubbed at his eyes in vain, trying to get them to focus. He shook his head and flicked his gaze to the now clearer figure that had by that time crossed the room and was practically leaning over the bed. Rhys tilted his head to the side, his vision finally clearing and he was met by a memorizing ice blue gaze that seemed to shake him right down to his core. Rhys simply locked gazes with the figure for a moment, caught on the striking color of his eyes, searching his orbs diligently. The figure’s left eye, was Echo, the familiar mechanical hiss registering in Rhys’ ears as it focused in on him. Then Rhys’ eyes soaked in the rest of what went with those striking ocean eyes. Rhys felt his breath catch in his throat and his stomach nearly fall out his ass. That facial structure, he’d know it anywhere. Broad, sculpted chin, high sharp cheekbones, thin nose, thick coiffed walnut locks teased up over his forehead…Jack.

Rhys let loose of an inhuman noise that was nothing but pure terror.

He was sitting mere feet from Jack. Handsome Jack. Only this time he was no hologram. He was flesh and bone, all the color in his face vibrant and real, everything was real. He was real. Standing there so close to Rhys, like some nightmare come to life.

Rhys yelled out loudly, his voice reverberating off the walls and scrambled backward, nearly ripping out his IV in the process.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!” Rhys bellowed his pupils blown and frightened, eyes rolling around in his sockets in pure, unbridled terror.

Jack, Jack reincarnated, whatever the fuck he was stumbled backward raising his hands defensively, his face falling just slightly at the other man’s reaction.

“Hey! Hey! Calm down! You’re gunna pull your IV out!” Jack nearly begged his eyebrows pushing up together in a concerned manner, watching pitifully as Rhys backed over to the other side of the bed, as far away from him as possible.

The Jack reincarnate sighed and dropped his shoulders, ruffling a frustrated hand through his locks and looked to the shaking young man in dismay.

“Look I’m not gunna hurt you…just take it easy…” The Jack thing offered, moving his hands in a non-threatening motion.

Rhys grabbed a pillow and hurled it at the flesh and blood Jack. He wasn’t really sure why he did it. It wasn’t like throwing a pillow at a mass murderer was going to just make him lie down and surrender, but Rhys was too frightened to think rationally in any sense of the word. The other man just looked at Rhys with a ‘really?’ sort of expression and rolled his eyes dramatically.

For the first time Rhys really took a second to soak in the absolute horror standing before him. Rhys scrunched up his nose suddenly upon realization that there were several things different about this real life Jack. This Jack was not wearing a mask. The slender, familiar face that Rhys had grown to know so very well was interrupted by a massive, jagged scar that ran up his right cheek, over the bridge of his nose, up his forehead and down directly over his left eye. Rhys sat silently for a moment, lowering his arms slowly, gently fisting his fingers in the bedding, eyeing the other man warily. The scar was horrendous, the old, pink, tissue long since healed, but mean and angry all the same. Rhys could only fucking imagine what in the world could make a scar like that. Something horrid that was for damned sure.

This Jack was dressed casually, adorned in a slim pair of jeans and what looked to be a worn, plain, black t-shirt that had seen one too many washes. His boots were faded brown leather, splattered with what looked to be oil of some sort, but it could have been blood. Rhys was sure it had to be blood. Handsome Jack would have blood on his boots, not oil. Oil was not sinister enough. The Jack seemed to relax a little when Rhys stilled, and their eyes met once more, searching over one another curiously. Rhys’ gaze was distrusting and unsure as it settled over the other man’s slim features. He had no idea what the fuck was going on. Now he was seriously questioning if he actually was in fact dead. Maybe he was, and now he was meeting with Jack in the afterlife. In what sort of cruel world would he have gotten stuck with this asshole after death. Rhys groaned out in dismay. This could not be happening.

“Am…Am I dead?? Is this hell?? Am I in hell??” Rhys nearly wailed suddenly to the Jack across the bed from him.

The other man screwed up his face in confusion and tilted his head to the side.

“No, you aren’t dead. I mean when I found you, you were just about to be…but you aren’t now. You know…you’re welcome for that and all.” The Jack quipped folding his arms across his slender chest and shifting his weight a little.

Rhys fiddled with the shirt draped around his body, the shirt that wasn’t his and now in his fully conscious state he wondered where the fuck it had come from, and where the hell were his other clothes.

“…you found me?” Rhys repeated in a questioning manner.

The other man grabbed a small chair from beside the sink, spun it around and eased himself down onto it backwards, resting his chin on the back of it.

“Yup. Found you out in the dust. I thought you were dead until I gave you a kick and you made some noise. I was gunna let my Skag eat you but Hyperion workers always just give her belly aches.” The walnut haired man chuckled his lip curling up in a teasing smile and his eyes glittering gently.

Rhys did not laugh. He only continued to stare in utter frantic confusion.

The other man’s laughter choked off and he sighed out heavily.

“Well…I mean that was supposed to be a joke…like haha? You know?” The walnut haired man tried holding his hands out in a ‘duh’ sort of fashion.

Rhys only scowled at him darkly.

The man made a distressed noise in his throat and sighed.

“How are you…you’re…real…? How did you get out of my head…? How do you have a body??” Rhys fired off the questions rapidly, barking them angrily.

The walnut haired man shook his head violently.

“No, no, no kiddo you got this all wrong…you’re confusing me with that err...thing stuck up into your echo system. He’s still there, trust me, that’s totally not what happened here.” The other man said slowly, meeting eyes with Rhys gently.

Rhys chewed his bottom lip and his eyes darted away from his counterpart’s gaze.

“Then you’re…you’re Handsome Jack…but you…you died….” Rhys tried again, his brain struggling desperately to make sense of it all.

The other man shook his head again slowly, frowning darkly.

“No. I’m not Jack. Well I mean…in a way I am…but I’m not _the_ Handsome Jack…I’m just a body double kiddo. Name’s Timothy.” The man said trying to force a smile at the amber haired male across from him.

Rhys just stared at him, still not completely sold on the whole idea. But then again it was common knowledge that Jack had hired body doubles in the years he ruled over Pandora. Rhys had never seen one, but he’d heard rumor that they were impeccably identical, voice and all. That would certainly explain why his voice was the absolutely perfect copy of the AI he had lodged up in his ear drums. Rhys buried his bottom lip between his teeth and breathed out through his nose steadily. The man that called himself Timothy stayed quiet, simply letting the introduction sink in for a moment. It was hard to really believe he was just a body double. The man moved like Jack, talked like Jack…pet names and all, everything about him was identical to the ex-Hyperion overlord. It was otherworldly and unnerving to say the very least.

“But you can call me Tim if you want. Doesn’t really matter to me.” The man interjected shrugging his shoulders up then letting them fall once more, hanging his elbows over the back of the chair casually.

Rhys felt a lump forming in his throat, his heartbeat slowing, but he was still not fully convinced there was no danger here. This was too strange not to be dangerous in some form or fashion. The walnut haired man stayed planted to his chair, giving Rhys his needed space consciously. Rhys had to admit, the way the man was acting was indeed not very ‘Jack-like’.

“Where are my clothes?” Rhys whispered his voice raspy as it came from his lips.

“They uh…they were kinda covered in vomit and blood and god knows what else. I threw them in the laundry for you. Sorry I didn’t really have anything that exactly fit you. You’re kind of a bean pole honestly.” Timothy said flashing Rhys a million dollar, pearly smile.

Rhys just looked down at the baggy shirt, it’s yellow folds swallowing him slightly and nodded slowly.

“Uh…thanks I guess.” Rhys whispered gently thumbing against the hem of the unfamiliar grey boxers.

“No problem. So…what’s your name…you know if you don’t mind me asking. I could name you myself if you’d like? You do kinda look like you’d be an Ian. Maybe Franky? Naw not Franky. How about Caleb?” Timothy teased chuckling lightly.

The comment got a slight smile out of the amber haired male and Rhys shook his head slowly. That was definitely not Jack. Jack didn’t tease…at least not in a nice way.

“It’s Rhys.” Rhys said slowly shifting in the bed and pushing the covers back off his legs as the bedding became too hot on his skin.

“Yeah that fits you better than anything I came up with. So…is it cool if I check your IV now? I kinda gotta make sure you didn’t mess anything up when you were flailing around. You aren’t going to freak out on me again are you kiddo?” Timothy asked cocking an eyebrow at the other man.

Rhys nodded slowly and scooted back into the middle of the bed, offering his arm out as the walnut haired man came close. It was like looking at a mirror image of the dictator and it was still proving to be a little bit of a hard pill for Rhys to swallow. It was too strange, too odd…

Timothy’s fingers were gentle as he unwrapped the bandages around the area where Rhys’ IV was inserted. His fingers were rough and calloused, they were not the hands of some CEO who sat in an office and barked orders, they were hands that belonged to someone who used them to their fullest. They were rough, but they were pleasant. Rhys didn’t flinch at his touch, and Timothy’s eyes flicked up to Rhys’ as if to make sure he wasn’t causing the younger man to go into another full on panic attack. He re-wrapped the bandages tightly and leaned back nodding slowly.

“There we go…see I’m not that bad I promise.” Timothy reassured smiling at Rhys calmly.

Though his voice was Jack’s, his mannerisms were not and it was just about the most confusing situation Rhys had ever fucking found himself in. He was torn between being absolutely terrified, and absolutely mesmerized. He watched the Jack look alike with large, enthralled eyes, taking in his every movement, his every feature. He had a tattoo curling around and up his right arm, a carefully detailed image of a rakk, wings folded in, tail twisting around his wrist just above his hand. Rhys narrowed his eyes at the well rendered tattoo.

“I thought body doubles were supposed to be perfect copies of Jack?” Rhys questioned, unable to stop the words before they were pouring from his lips.

He instantly regretted the question, it was too intrusive and he’d just fucking met the other man. He just couldn’t help it. He wanted to everything about the awe worthy, perfect Jack clone.

Timothy chuckled and settled himself on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping a little with the new weight.

“I was. A long time ago, back when I still worked for Hyperion. After Jack died…I just sorta took the liberty to modify a few things.” Timothy whispered his eyes glazing over for a moment before he held his arm out and looked to Rhys.

“Guess you were talking about this huh?” Timothy said nodding to the large tattoo twisting around his arm.

Rhys nodded slowly.

“Just wanted a change you know…and after my leg I figured what’s the use, I wasn’t a perfect copy after that anyway.” Tim shrugged smiling fondly at Rhys.

Rhys offered the walnut haired man a curious look and immediately Timothy was reaching down to his left leg. He rolled his jeans up over his calve and folded it up to his knee revealing sleek, red and black mechanics, glittering like they’d just gotten a new polish. A fake leg, Rhys thought slowly. That was interesting. Timothy just grinned at Rhys brilliantly and knocked on the robotic leg, getting a hard metallic sound in response.

“My first go round with trying to domesticate a skag didn’t go so hot.” Timothy chortled rolling his pant leg down and adjusting it back into place.

Rhys smiled in return. Why in the fuck had this maniac though domesticating a skag would be a good idea in the first place? Rhys suddenly had about a million and one questions for the odd other man, and he wanted to ask them all. He still had no idea where he was, or who this Timothy really was, how the fuck he’d ended up here, and everything in between.

“Where am I?” Rhys questioned slowly looking around the room.

“I call it home. You can call it your recovery headquarters. Technically it’s an old Atlas underground facility. I stumbled across it years ago, it took a lot of elbow grease, blood, sweat and tears…but she’s sturdy and she’s protected. Which is exactly what you need seeing as Hyperion sure does have a pretty bounty on your head cupcake.” Timothy said looking at Rhys slowly.

Rhys grit his teeth and downcast his eyes.

“Yeah…” Rhys whispered.

Timothy’s expression changed to one of concern and empathy. Whatever the kid had done, it must have been pretty bad.

“Is that why you were wandering around out there in the desert?” Timothy asked slowly.

“Look I don’t judge, I won’t turn you in. You’re safe here.” Timothy added offering the invitation kindly.

Rhys frowned. Sure Rhys may have been safe…but Timothy had no idea how much danger he’d now put himself in. This poor man had no fucking idea what he’d done when he’d saved Rhys. He would have been better off just leaving him to die. That was why Rhys had headed out into the sand in the first place. He’d even failed at doing himself in…how fucking pathetic.

“Yeah. It is pretty fucking pathetic. Can’t even off yourself kiddo, really I mean wow.” A static filled voice crackled in Rhys’ ear.

Rhys felt his blood run cold in panic.

“And along that subject, let’s talk about this whole…going against me and trying to kill us both just to get rid of me…oh Rhys…that shit really is not going to do pumpkin. That is not going to do _at all.”_ Jack’s voice echoed through Rhys’ skull like electricity, knocking on every particle of his brain painfully.

Rhys cringed and his hands instinctively flew up to his temples gripping hard.

“NO! STOP! I’M SORRY I DIDN’T SEE ANY OTHER WAY!!” Rhys cried out as pain flooded through his body and rattled his bones.

Timothy was instantly across the bed, his thick palms wrapping around Rhys wrists, holding them tightly, bringing them from his face.

“Hey! Hey! Snap out of it! It’s ok!” Timothy called shaking Rhys a little.

Rhys’ eyes snapped open, left eye flickering yellow, then blue, then yellow again. Timothy gasped slightly, but did not loosen his hold on the other man’s wrist. He shoved the amber haired male down onto the bed, crooning over him, pinning his wrists to the mattress to keep him from flailing.

“GET OFF OF ME!!!” Rhys bellowed and his voice flickering from the tone Timothy had heard moments ago, to one that was horridly familiar and vicious.

Timothy could feel the color draining from his face as the scene played out before him, holding onto the man beneath him for dear life, afraid to let him loose, afraid to let him free. He was afraid, looking down listening to some sort of internal battle now going on between the young man and whatever the fuck was inside his head. Rhys screamed and thrashed voice vicious and wild, slipping into something more animal than human. Something absolutely terrifying. But Timothy did not let go. He couldn’t.

“NO! CALM DOWN RHYS! CALM DOWN!” Timothy yelled back at the struggling other male.

Rhys bucked and kicked, but the weight from the heavier male kept him snugly pinned to the surface of the mattress. Timothy caged him in dauntingly, determined to keep whatever was trying to come forth from the amber haired male from breaking lose.

“Just breathe. Breathe. Focus on me. Focus on my voice, try and block it out. Don’t listen. Keep your breathing steady.” Timothy reassured his voice soothing and calm as Rhys jolted and gnashed his teeth.

Rhys’ yellow pupil faded once more, blue taking over again slowly, his limbs gently stilling. Rhys’ body very slowly went slack, control slipping back to him, his chest still heaving, his eyes still wide as plates. He stared up at the man above him, walnut bangs having come loose with the struggle. For a moment he forgot everything about Timothy, and being a body double, and a wild jolt of fear ran down his spine as he looked up into the face of Handsome Jack. Rhys couldn’t help his next actions. He just couldn’t stop the tears from bubbling up. Before he could handle all the emotions coursing through him, he was crying, tears falling wet and heavy down his cheeks. The sobs wracked through his tired body harshly, rattling his insides and causing him to sputter weakly.

He was so confused, and so strained and everything was upside-down. He wasn’t cut out for all this. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t want anything to do with Jack, or Hyperion, or anything. He just wanted to curl up and sink into the mattress. He just wanted the thing to swallow him whole, he wanted to disappear into its folds and never return. He just didn’t want to even exist anymore. Everything was too hard, and too frightening and too real. He didn’t want this life anymore, and yet he couldn’t even have death.

Then the arms of the Handsome Jack above him were encircling him, fingers stroking through his hair. He’s afraid of him and yet this Jack is welcoming him in and he just wants something to cry on, even if it is Handsome Jack.

Rhys quivers and shakes against Timothy’s grasp and Timothy doesn’t know what else to do but comfort the broken man. There is evil at work here and Timothy has never seen anything quite like it. His wide eyes stare off into the wall as he feels the amber haired male shiver against him, wetting the front of his shirt with heavy tears, wrinkling the cloth with frantic, scared fingers.

There is a flicker of blue just behind the bed, something stirring right out of the shadows. Timothy doesn’t move as the figure lazes right out of the wall, flickering blue, jittering apart then reforming casually as it stalks around the bed, arms folded across its chest. Timothy’s eyes meet with its and he is pretty sure he’s never been so terrified in all his life. It had been a long time since he’d stared eye to eye with that face and it not been just him looking into a mirror. Every morning he’d go over the same routine. Wake up, stare at his own reflection…see Jack, then tell himself that it wasn’t Jack but it was him. Point out every aspect that wasn’t like Jack, and tell himself it was ok. He couldn’t do that now, staring at the flickering ghost now nearly nose to nose with him. This wasn’t him. This was Jack. In some form, in some fashion, in some state of being…this was Jack. Timothy fully understood why Rhys had been so afraid of him. Because that was something out of nightmares, to be faced with Handsome Jack. Now, Timothy forced to do just that.

Jack’s eyebrows knitted together angrily over flared, vicious orbs.

Timothy narrowed his eyes in return, breathing hard, his fingers never straying from stroking Rhys’ hair, doing his best to comfort the still sobbing young man. A stare down between two mirror images ensued, eyes crashing together, mouths but hard lines on thin faces.

The ghost of Jack leaned back casually, un-amused and displeased as he stared on his once-upon a time doppelganger.

“You know…I don’t think you and I are going to get along very well are we cupcake?” Jack snarled his voice dark and dripping with malice.

Timothy did not answer for several moments, the sounds of Rhys’ sobs the only thing filling the tension filled space.

“No. I don’t think we are Jack.” Timothy spat as if his mouth were full of venom.

Jack tilted his head to the side and circled around the back of Timothy, phasing right through the bed, stroking a hand through the back of the tangent man’s hair. Timothy couldn’t feel it, but never the less it caused all the hairs on the nape of his neck to stand on end.

“The next time you interfere with my affairs. I’ll fucking kill you. You got that pumpkin?” Jack hissed as he sank into the floor, and then was gone leaving Timothy to simply stare at the spot he’d once been.

Timothy let loose of the breath he’d been holding in and felt Rhys shift against him. He looked to the amber haired male falling apart around him, and then to the ceiling in dismay.

“Oh god…” He whispered to himself softly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEEEEEEEEE so yes...that totally just happened lol. Welcome to the story Timothy! :D Also a little bit on my head canons for Tim, in this story Tim has a robotic left leg, an echo eye, which is blue so both of his eyes are blue, a cover up tattoo to do away with the one he was forced to get around his wrist to match Jack's and he never wears his mask. His scar is pinkish in color and much more 'normal' looking than Jack's blue, wicked looking thing. Also, Timothy sometimes talks with the same speech pattern as Jack, using the phrases pumpkin, cupcake, kiddo, ect. I feel like after years of impersonating Jack to perfection it simply became habit. It's so engrained into him now he doesn't even realize he is doing it, and when he does it upsets him greatly. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, and it is a wild ride from here on out! :D


	12. Bare Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I am just sitting over here laughing at how dark this story has gotten. Dear god what have I done. Please be warned there is some accounts of abuse in this chapter. (Edit: Originally this chapter had some non-con accounts in it, but in the end I ended up hating this chapter because of it. I believe Jack is abusive in some accounts but he wouldn't be involved in rape. So I changed that.)

Bare Bones

Rhys sat on the end of the bed, legs folded, eyes blank and glassy as he settled his gaze on the wall before him. He did not move, body still as stone, fingers fisted in the bed sheets harshly. He didn’t know how long he’d been that way. He didn’t know what time it was. He didn’t know if it was day or night.

His monitor beeped softly behind him, the small sound rhythmic and steady on his ears. It was a reminder, the small mechanical tone…a reminder that he was alive. That he was breathing, that his heart was still beating. Rhys turned his robotic arm over in front of him, watching all his fingers move with his control. The monitor’s tone insisted he was alive…but he didn’t feel like it. He didn’t feel alive. He felt…hollow.

Like an empty shell of the man he’d once been. Pandora had done this to him. It had stripped him down to the bare bones. It had torn all the flesh and the meat. It had ripped everything from him and all he could do…was watch. Pandora was not a kind planet. She was mean, and ruthless, just like the people that inhabited her. The people she spawned were not human. They were beasts. Beasts that were just as wild as the landscape they roamed across. They were beasts that spat and snarled and bit. They were beasts that hunted and killed. When he had come to this planet he’d thought himself better than the beasts that called this planet home. He was human. He was wiser. He was better. He was saner. But now…now he was not so sure. Here he sat, looking over a two hands that had killed, two hands that had shed blood on the dirt, two hands that did not even seem like his. Human, beast, the line was suddenly so blurred. He couldn’t even differentiate between the two anymore.

Rhys clenched his fists into tight little balls and screwed his eyes shut. He was a murderer. Those people had threatened his wellbeing, yes, but he’d killed them. He had taken a life and that rattled him down to his very bones. This wasn’t him. He didn’t kill. He didn’t do this. He could picture their eyes so clearly in his head, wide and dead, all life having left their body vacant. Blood gurgling up from between teeth, brain painted over the ground, blood running in rivers. Red, fresh, warm. So red.

Rhys made a pained noise in his throat, his heart racing, the monitor behind him spiking rapidly. He clutched his chest, clawing at the material that did not belong to him frantically. What was he anymore? He didn’t even know. He was just as much a fucking monster as the man that inhabited his body. He was fighting a losing battle. The war was not one he would be winning, he knew this…god he knew. His breath came in short, shallow pants, panic washing over him like thick, heavy tar. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Everything was hot. Everything was spinning. Everything was falling to pieces.

Rhys fell onto his side, curling in on himself, palms clutched over his ears to drone out everything rattling through his screaming head. Voices yelling, voices bellowing, voices crying. _What have you done Rhys? What have you done,_ they cried. _What have you done to us_ , they moaned. _What have you done to yourself,_ they sobbed.

The sound of footsteps shook Rhys out of his frantic state. Everything seemed to stop all at once as the presence filled the door. Rhys shook his head slowly and buried his face in his hands. What the fuck was happening to him?

The Jack lookalike stood in the doorway hesitantly, fingers clutched around what looked to be a tray of food. Rhys felt cold chills run down his spine just looking at the other man. It was still an unnerving sight…he knew he wasn’t Jack. He knew that. Everything about the male’s mannerisms was not Jack, but that face…god that face was all Jack. It was like staring down a nightmare made of flesh and bone. He cringed internally at the mere sight of him. Everything about him was Jack, and it disgusted Rhys down to his very core.

Rhys did not meet eyes with the man that had saved him from death’s clutches. Instead he simply looked down at the tile flooring, heart slowly beginning to race again, breathing steady, but shallow. Why would anybody in the right mind want to become Jack? Rhys swallowed hard at the question. He had to be honest with himself, all his life he’d only wanted just that. He’d wanted to be Handsome Jack. He wanted the power, he wanted the respect, he wanted the wealth. He’d tried his best to get a similar haircut to the Hyperion president, tried to hold himself like Jack would. He would have given anything to become Jack. He would have given the world. He supposed both of them had their own reasons for following in Jack’s footsteps. But now, as Rhys was faced with the reality of actually, truly, becoming Jack it did not seem so glorious anymore. Now it was just terrifying and defeating.

“Hey…I brought you some food…you need to get something in your stomach kiddo.” Timothy spoke suddenly his voice soft and kind.

It was the kind way his voice vibrated off his throat that unnerved Rhys the most. When he looked at him, he was Jack. Rhys was sure of it. But when he heard him, he wasn’t and then Rhys was only confused.

Rhys said nothing for a long moment, simply chewing his lip and avoiding the mismatched eyes of the company invading the spacious room.

Timothy let loose of a small sigh and started across to Rhys’ bed. Rhys finally looked up at him when he set the tray of food down on the bed before the young man. The tray was adorned with two large bowls of soup and a row of crackers. Timothy dragged a chair up to the edge of the bed and sat in it slowly, grabbing one of the bowls and setting it on the bed before him, using it like a table.

“Mind if I eat with you?” Timothy questioned his icy eyes flicking up to Rhys' face.

Rhys sighed out slowly.

“I guess not.” Rhys croaked his voice rough as sandpaper.

Timothy frowned at the waver in the other man’s voice, eyes full of concern, fingers gently gripping the handle of his spoon. Timothy tapped the utensil on the side of the bowl slowly.

“I mean I can leave if you want. I won’t stay if you are uncomfortable with it.” Timothy said suddenly and the comment instantly made Rhys feel slightly guilty for his standoffish nature.

Rhys shook his head violently and opened his mouth helplessly to apologize.

“N-No, no. It’s fine. I’m sorry.” Rhys whispered his shoulders falling slightly.

“It’s just…gunna take some getting used to…you know…” Rhys continued sighing.

Timothy looked at him with bright eyes, gently blowing on his spoonful of soup to cool it before bringing it to his lips.

“I mean…the whole…looking like…him…” Rhys stuttered his cheeks suddenly filling with flush as he stumbled for his words frantically, trying to pick up his spoon but only succeeding in dropping it back on his tray with a loud clatter.

With that a small smile broke across the other man’s face, perfect teeth unsheathing from behind thin lips. Rhys felt his breath hitch slightly at the small gesture. As unnerving as the other man was, he was equally beautiful in the same breath. That may have been the most confusing part of it all. Rhys knew he wasn’t Jack. But when he looked at that all too familiar face, he was. Rhys was afraid of him and yet the calm nature of the man only drew Rhys to him. That old spark that Rhys had carried within his gut, that old stir riled up like some long dead, twisting thing. That same twisting, confusing attraction that kept him from completely hating Jack in all his entirety. It was that old infatuation that existed through worshipping posters and motivational speeches. It was that old heavy feeling that settled deep in his gut and brought fire through his nerves. It felt like the beginnings of a crush, only sicker, and Rhys knew it was because he looked like _him._

“That’s cute pumpkin. Really that is, but let’s not forget that just because he _looks_ like me and slightly _acts_ like me, does not _make_ him me. You got that kitten?” Jack’s static tainted voice crackled through Rhys’ frontal lobe.

Jack’s voice cause Rhys to jump and some of his soup sloshed right out on to the tray. Rhys looked down at the small mess in dismay and grabbed his cloth napkin to hurriedly dap up the spilt liquid.

“Sorry…I just…sorry….” Rhys whispered closing his eyes tightly and dipping his spoon into the soup and bringing the nourishment to his cracked lips.

Timothy looked at his company with questions rolling behind his pupils.

“Sorry for spilling? It’s really ok.” Timothy answered slowly, words coming forth hesitantly as he paused to take a spoonful for himself.

Rhys’ eyes snapped up to the doppelganger then, realizing he had in fact apologized out loud. It wasn’t like talking to himself would really be much of a surprise to his caretaker. He had already come to the assumption that the other man certainly thought he was absolutely nuts.

“Ah…uh…I was just thinking…out loud…” Rhys stuttered tripping over his words like some newborn animal right out of the womb.

The walnut haired male’s eyes flicked down to his soup, leaving Rhys to his stumbling words.

“So two million for your head…that is quite the bounty. Chump change from Hyperion’s pockets of course, but still that is pretty impressive.” Timothy offered suddenly, raising a thin, perfectly arched eyebrow at the man across from him.

Rhys looked down at the bed sheets. Really he hadn’t even known they’d put a bounty on him. He supposed they would eventually, and so they had.

“You could make out like a bandit with a bounty like that.” Rhys snarled looking to the doppelganger with hesitant eyes.

That was a pretty good amount of money. Very tempting for someone living on their own out here in the dust. If the man did decide to turn him into Hyperion, it was all over. Jack would win the war, and his throne. If Rhys let that happen…he would lose everything. He would be doomed to simply act as Jack’s stepping stone back to his position as CEO. Rhys didn’t want that. He didn’t want his body used for such abominations. If Jack got back to Hyperion…he would have no choice. If Jack regained his throne…there was no hope. No hope for Rhys, or his friends, or this planet. Everything would burn and Rhys would only be able to watch as Jack destroyed everything that was once him. He had already lost enough pieces of himself, he was no prepared to lose anymore.

“You are walking a thin line cupcake. You are so fucking pathetic. You don't know a damned thing about what is right for this planet.” Jack hissed right against the lobe of Rhys’ ear.

Rhys eyed his food through dark lashes, eyebrows pushed together in utter white hot anger. He would not let Jack run with this. He would go down fighting. He would not let himself fall into insanity due to his parasite. He would fight with every inch of tooth and claw he had left in him.

“Now do you really think that is a good idea pumpkin? I’ll give you about five seconds to start changing that tune of yours.” Jack snarled his voice dripping down into that low place Rhys knew all too well.

Jack’s tone always sank into that place right before things got out of hand. Right before things ended in blood and bile and lost life. It was like listening to someone whisper your fate in your ear. It sent chills running rampant over your skin and goose bumps to break out over your body. Jack’s tongue was lithe as the words tumbled off it, smooth and calculating. Even while whispering threats and promises, it all sounded like lust to Rhys. All it did was leave him caught between utter terror and want. Want for something that was out to do nothing but end him. It was sick, and he knew it. But he couldn’t stop it and couldn’t fight it.

Timothy’s lips curved downward at Rhys, eyes searching over his face in curiosity, seeing the displeasure behind Rhys’ sockets. It was as if the doppelganger could sense the internal battle playing out within Rhys’ body. That fact shook Rhys’ bones, the level of understanding that seemed to seep off the other man’s gaze. He didn’t know…how could he? He couldn’t see…could he? He couldn’t hear…could he? No. It was all in Rhys’ imagination.

“I don’t need the money. Nor do I want to turn you in.” Timothy said pointedly scraping the bottom of his ceramic bowl with the curve of his spoon.

Rhys swallowed hard, teeth grit together. Why should he trust this god damned Handsome Jack look alike? Nothing good ever came from that fucking face, that fucking smile, that fucking man. Rhys couldn’t trust anyone. Not even himself and he would not trust this Jack wannabe.

“Then what other reason would you have for dragging me out of the desert? You should have just left me there then.” Rhys snapped his tone shaking slightly, teeth clicking together hard.

Timothy narrowed his eyes at the young man and placed his bowl on his lap softly.

“If this is your way of saying thank you, you really aren’t doing a killer job kiddo.” Timothy snarled back.

“How the hell do I know I can trust you? I mean jeezus Christ, kiddo this, kiddo that, would you fucking stop!?! You sound just like Jack…” Rhys exploded suddenly eyes wild and teeth bared like some untamed creature.

With what Timothy was bursting out of his chair, the small metal legs scraping over hard tile with harsh squeal. He let loose of a vicious yell and chunked the bowl across the room, the dishware smashing into the wall and clattering to the floor in sad pieces. Timothy looked down at a wide eyed Rhys, jaw clenched, chest heaving, nostrils flaring.

“Don’t…don’t ever call me that again.” Timothy whispered his hands fisted at his sides, voice shaking with rage as it dripped off his teeth.

Timothy crooned over the bed, shoving a pointed index finger in the young man’s face. He shook his head slowly, pupils blown and shaking, anger bubbling up from his deepest depths.

“I…I am not _him._ I will never be _him._ Don’t you dare…don’t you fucking dare ever call me _him_ again.” Timothy hissed his lip curling farther into a wicked smile with every word he breathed.

“Oh, ho, ho, seems like that is quite the touchy subject huh cupcake?” Came that smooth snarl just behind Rhys’ ear.

Rhys’ eyes flicked to the side, traveling over the blue ghost sauntering across the room toward the two men. _Not now…_ Rhys thought desperately. Rhys’ eyes shifted to Timothy’s trying not to look like he was staring at absolutely nothing for too long. But when his eyes met with the other man’s expression, something was very, very wrong.

Timothy’s eyes were trained on the very spot Jack floated across the floor, seeming to dance along with the hologram. Rhys furrowed his eyebrows together and simply watched as Jack sashayed nearer to the doppelganger. Jack crooned his chin back slightly the most wicked of hollow smiles crawling across his face like spiders. Timothy took a step back, tripping over the chair behind him and stumbling a couple of paces, his eyes that were so full of hate moments ago now seeping with terror.

“You know, I remember you pumpkin. Don’t think for a second I don’t.” Jack cooed ignoring Timothy’s futile attempts to back away from him, phasing through the toppled chair and hunting closer to the frightened man.

Timothy’s back bumped against the wall hard, eyes darting downward then back to Jack, looking more like a rabbit having gotten it’s foot trapped in a snare than anything else. He was mortified as he looked into all too familiar eyes, blue in color, instead of mismatched, but the way they watched and shifted was all the same. There was no change in that. There was no change in the gentle way Jack moved, that way that made you believe in all the grace of the world. That way that made you love and fear him all in the same whisper of a breath. It was so horrifying to see that again. Suddenly Timothy was no longer in the room he’d made into a medical facility, he was no longer in the dust, he was no longer on Pandora. He was back on Helios, that very first day he’d been hired, still so fresh from surgery, voice still sore and body still getting used to its new attributes. He was back in that office, the one with the gold placard that read “Jack” across it, the one with the big chair and the picture of his daughter propped on the desk before him. It had been like looking in a mirror for Jack, his face lighting up the first moment he got sight of his new little plaything. Well…his new employee. That was back when Jack had not yet thought of him as an object. But for Timothy, it was like looking at something new and exciting. This was his boss, the man that would make him into something more. He was bright eyed and bushy tailed then, debt free finally, and so innocent. Back then he still felt like himself, he still felt like Timothy. He had not yet been subjected to the horrors of Elpis, the monsters and men and gunfights and bloodshed. He had not yet had to become one hundred percent Jack. He’d recited some lines on the ship ride in, but he had not paid much attention to whole ‘having to become Jack’ thing. He figured that would be easy. When he’d introduced himself to Jack as Timothy, it had earned him a displeased look from his new boss and a shake of his head. That scolding was light, but Timothy could hear just the beginnings of something more behind it. He’d promised it would never happen again and Jack had nodded through a bright, million dollar smile. He’d cupped Timothy’s face with his big palms and seemed to get lost in the sheer beauty and excitement of the doppelganger.

The next time he’d seen his boss it was much harder. He’d been down to Elpis and the planet had eaten him alive. He’d shot men and women and creatures. But he’d put on his best Jack face and reported to his boss as if nothing was wrong. Jack had looked over his desk at him with cool, mismatched eyes, he’d listened to every word Timothy had to say and he had been kind. As kind as someone of his rank could be. When Timothy had left, Jack’s hand had rested on his side for longer than what could have been considered professional. Timothy had been to Jack’s office many times in the span of his employment. The first time Jack had kissed him, right on the lips, it had come as a surprise. The next time he did it, it was less so. The third time it did not phase the young man when Jack kissed him with an open mouth and frantic tongue, stealing his soul right out of his chest. It became a thing Timothy looked forward to. Like a reward. Elpis was mean, and hard, but Jack’s fawning over him was soft and wondrous. In some sick little way it made it worth it. When Timothy would prove he was becoming a perfect little replica of the pretty man he answered to, he was rewarded with big palms sliding up his body and shed clothes on the floor of Jack’s office. Jack was not rough. Jack was not mean. Jack was gentle, and wanting. Timothy had never really thought of himself as experienced, but Jack insisted if he was to be him, he would have to learn. So he’d learned. He’d learned the way Jack wanted it, he’d learned how to kiss and touch just right. He’d learned how to moan and how to keep his wits even in the midst of pleasure. Jack had always looked to the doppelganger with fond, kind eyes. But the kindness in Jack’s eyes had not lasted. Betrayal eventually ripped him apart. Betrayal and a wound that he could only hide with a mask.

Timothy would never forget that day.

His boots had echoed across the spacious office, the light from Elpis spilling in royal and purple, all the galaxies and stars glittering like Christmas decorations in the windows. Jack’s back had been turned to him, Timothy left to be greeted with only the back of Jack’s head. He could just make out the older man’s fingers tapping on the armrest of the massive desk seat he lounged in. Jack’s digits kept a slow rhythm as Timothy came closer, his heart that had been excited moments previous, sinking down into his chest as an utter feeling of uncomfortable dread swarmed over him.

Tap, tap tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

A serenading rhythm for the longest walk the young man had ever taken. He’d stood there before the familiar desk. The desk that Jack had so lovingly laid him across many times before, drawn to the doppelganger’s striking resemblance to himself, fueled by egocentric lust. Jack still did not turn. Timothy felt himself waiting with baited breath, for what he was not sure.

Then Jack’s fingers had stopped.

“What is your name?” Jack had asked suddenly.

Timothy had swallowed dryly, slightly taken aback by the nature of Jack’s pointed question.

“It’s Jack, sir.” Timothy had repeated in his perfected, confident chime, tilting his head to the side a little.

“What is your real name?” Jack had questioned still facing the great windows framing Pandora and it’s moon.

Timothy had stuttered a little, mouth opening and closing slowly, losing his so well polished Jack façade in a weak moment.

“My real name?” Timothy questioned.

Jack did not repeat himself, he was not one to. Instead he turned just slightly, eyes boring into Timothy’s chest like knives.

“My real name is Timothy.” Timmy had whispered softly, frightened by the question and the eyes soaking over him.

Jack glared at him as if the young man was some stray dog that had wandered right into his office. Nostrils flared and eyes darkened. Suddenly Jack was rising from his chair, his boots thudding the cold tile of the office loudly as he came around the desk. Everything about his movement’s had been predatory and wild, he was hunting, stalking, waiting. Timothy felt bile rise in his throat as Jack came closer, his demeanor not what Timothy had become so accustomed to during these little meetings.

Jack stood still for a moment, eye to eye with his perfect doppelganger. For a moment his eyes seemed to soften as he stared at Timothy, fond of such a familiar face. But just as quickly as the whisper of emotion had crossed Jack’s slender face, it was gone. In one quick swipe Jack’s fingers curled around the doppelganger’s chin, gripping too tight, nails digging painful little divots into the flesh. Timothy had whimpered, only lending to his fate.

With that Jack had kicked the young man’s shin, sending him clattering to the floor like a fallen skyscraper. He’d landed another sharp kick to the doppelganger’s gut, the toe of his boot digging a deep, hard, wallop that left Timothy gasping on the tile. The sole of Jack’s shoe had found Timothy’s throat, pressing into his mercilessly, crushing into his windpipe and robbing him of oxygen. Timothy had scrambled and writhed, grabbing at the boot that pinned him to the floor, tears streaming down his thin face, confusion whispering up from the pleading look he gave his superior.

“Your name is Jack. Your nickname is Jack. Your real name is Jack. Every name you fucking possess…is JACK!!!” Jack had bellowed pressing harder, pressing until Timothy’s vision was blurry and the blood in his ears was pounding like a drum.

Timothy could not find it in him to be thankful when Jack let him finally take a much needed breath. As soon as he was sputtering for air Jack was kicking him onto his stomach, Timothy’s hands shaking as he folded his elbows onto the tile and buried his face within them, scared and ashamed as Jack had stripped him from the waist down. Jack had ripped his belt from its loops and wrapped it twice around his hand. Then he’d brought the wicked thing down across Timothy’s pale buttocks. They had done this before. Timothy had been spanked before. But the situation had always been with his best interests in mind, Jack had always asked him if he wanted it harder or softer, Jack had always used the smooth, worn end with holes. Now Jack used the side connected to the buckle, letting the metal bite across the doughy flesh, opening him up without concern for the pain. It hurt. It hurt so much, the metal slicing cuts along his tender flesh, the feeling of fresh, warm, blood running down over the backs of his thighs. Purple flurries of bruising being left behind when the buckle did not catch right and draw blood. Timothy had cried. He’d cried hard. It had hurt. He’d been tossed around by kraggons, sliced open by more things than he could count, grazed by bullets, broken an arm tumbling down a cliff…but of all the things he’d been through…this hurt the most. Half naked on Jack’s floor, belt slapping against his skin, bleeding down onto the tile…this hurt the most.

He’d grabbed a handful of Timothy’s chocolate locks, fingers scraping scalp, fist pulling too tight, snapping the young man’s head backwards.

“YOU ARE JACK!!! YOU WILL ALWAYS BE JACK!!!” Jack had bellowed his words scattered and wild. 

Jack had left him there, to lie in the filth of his own blood and shame and Timothy had cried into an empty office.

The next morning Jack had summoned Timothy once more. The next morning Jack had been all apologies and promises. He'd promised his pretty little doppleganger it would never happen again. He had blamed it on anger and he'd blamed it on a long day. He could blame it on whatever he wanted...but it did not change the sting Tim was left with from the merciless belt. It did not change the shame still clinging to the doppelgangers bones.

Jack had made many promises. 

All of them hollow.

But Tim had believed him because he wanted Jack to be that kind man he'd first known. Tim had believed all the lies. Tim believed that Jack would not take out his rage on him ever again. 

But Jack did. Over and over again.

Timothy never saw that kind Jack again. Instead all that was left, was Handsome Jack. The tyrant that no longer saw a man when Timothy was called to his office. Timothy had no more value than a desk lamp. There was no more exciting teachings of how to be Jack in the bedroom. The times that were gentle faded from memory as Jack become utterly obsessed with Timothy’s perfection. Each time Tim so much as stuttered Jack would ensue punishment. 

Timothy had taken it all, for fear of death he had taken it. He’d taken the beatings, he’d taken the torture, he’d even taken it when Jack had pressed that hot brand across his once perfect face. If Jack couldn’t be pretty, Timmy couldn’t either.

The memories raced back to the doppelganger like flood gates having been opened, all the hairs on his arms standing on end.

Tim’s eyes locked with the man, hologram, ghost standing before him, his breath shaking and his teeth grit together so hard it made his jaw ache.

“It looks like you haven’t changed too much from the last time I saw you huh kiddo? Still just as pretty…gotta admit that.” Jack snarled reaching a holographic finger to the doppelganger, only to have the digit go straight through.

“Get the fuck away from me.” Timothy hissed yanking his head to the side viciously.

Jack pouted at the man trapped against the wall, throwing his lip out dramatically.

“Oh, that’s the greeting I get after how many years kitten? I mean it has been a while hasn’t it, and yet you give me such a cold shoulder.” Jack snarled teasingly, voice quivering with sick amusement.

Rhys slowly found his footing, bare toes curling over the slick tile, eyes wide, fingers steadying himself up with the side of the bed.

“Y-You can see him?” Rhys whispered his voice rising an octave.

Though the question was directed at Timothy, Jack took it upon himself to answer.

“Oh, he sure can. Apparently anybody with an echo eye can see me. Fun little fact there for ya.” Jack hissed grinning wide and toothy.

“Y-You’re dead…you can’t hurt me…” Timothy spat breathlessly.

Jack simply rolled his eyes at the bold comment.

“Dead in a sense yes. But the whole not being able to hurt you thing, oh I have to disagree.” Jack chuckled clicking his tongue at the doppelganger tauntingly.

“Jack, g-get away from him.” Rhys hissed faintly, his voice weak and his body even more so with just trying to stand on his own two feet for several moments.

Jack just shot him a wicked, displeased glare, and flickered from sight, reappearing just before the amber haired young man.

“Whaddya say we show him, just how much we can hurt him little Rhysie?” Jack cooed and Rhys looked to him with wild, frightened eyes.

Rhys’ body flooded with the white hot electricity of Jack, bones aching, brain throbbing. He leaned hard on the bedside, Rhys’ consciousness shifting back into his head, Jack taking his body without permission. Rhys cried and sobbed. He did not want this man to die. He didn’t know if he trusted him, nor did he know if this place was safe…but he did not want him dead.

Timothy watched in horror, back still to the wall, as the man across the room slumped slightly, slowly rolling his shoulders and straightening into an upright position.

“You see kiddo, I have a new little plaything. You were fun and all, but I couldn’t actually… _use_ you. Rhysie here, oh, he is all _mine._ Like a pretty little puppet…and with him in my palm, I’ll be sitting pretty on my throne in no time. You on the other hand, aren’t part of this little equation…so I’m afraid we are gunna have to dispose of you pumpkin. Gotta hand it to you for surviving this long…but…the train ride ends here.” Jack snarled through Rhys’ borrowed lips.

Before Jack could get another word off, Timothy was on top of him, taking him to the ground hard. Jack made a breathless sound as his back collided with the tile and his fingers scrambled to get a hold of any part of Timothy that they could.

“You son of a-“ Jack snarled wildly, struggling beneath the heavier man.

Rhys was not exactly a power house, and this quickly posed a problem when faced up against the much stronger, wilder, man. Timothy clasped his hands around Jack’s throat, hips pinning the man’s groin to the floor, eyes wild as he watched the amber haired man gasp and spit. His yellow eye rolled in his head, teeth gritted up into a wolfish snarl, legs kicking, cursing spilling like warm fire from his tongue.

“I’ll make you pay for everything you did to me!!! I WILL MAKE YOU SUFFER!!!!” Timothy bellowed, palms tightening, thumbs digging wounds into the flesh beneath them.

The man that looked like Rhys and sounded like Jack crawled blood red marks along the tops of Tim’s hands and arms, desperate for breath. So this was what it was like to strangle someone? This is what it felt like. This is what Jack saw every time his fingers clasped around some poor souls windpipe. Timothy could see the life slowly beginning to flicker in the man’s eyes, fingers stilling, eyebrows knitted together over now fearful eyes.

So this was what it felt like…to be Jack. To kill like Jack. To strangle like Jack, with all the wild malicious power in the world.

Timothy ripped his hands away from the man’s throat frantically, the sick realization washing over him devastatingly. For a moment he’d been Jack. He’d let him in. He’d let all the training, all the hours of pretending that had suddenly not just been pretending, he’d let it all back in. Timothy scrambled off the man letting loose of a feeble cry of anguish at the realization, hands coming to his face in dismay.

Jack coughed and sputtered, leaning up on shaky elbows.

“Even after all this time…there still is a little piece of me lodged in there somewhere huh? You always were my favorite body double.” Jack wheezed smiling viciously at the other man.

With that Timothy reared his fist back and sent it flying, knuckles colliding with hard bone and facial structure, knocking the other man out cold. 


	13. Sex and Spirits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So all this heavy plot has really taken over this story, had an itch to throw some great smut in there amongst it all. Please enjoy ;)

Sex and Spirits 

Rhys moves against smooth, warm palms, back arching acceptingly into the touch and a gasping breath escaping his lips in a loud expel. Subconsciously he knows what this is. He had been here far too many times to not know. The clear, yet distant ways things come into focus, the sounds echoing from places they shouldn’t, the feelings far more extreme than anything normal. He’s dreaming, and worst of all…he knows it. But he can’t wake up. He just can’t seem to shake himself out of the thick, heavy, slumber and so he remains trapped in a dream world he dreads, hates and lusts after all in the same second. His body feels hot. Viciously hot, sweat rolling down the length of his torso, catching in the trail of amber hairs traveling down his stomach. His hair is slick to his forehead, the breath at his neck puffs against him overly hot and every heave he sucks in tastes like spent oxygen. The air is stale and thick with smells of perspiration and arousal. Rhys’ tongue presses flush to the backs of his teeth as he squirms against the tepid body pushing down upon him. The surface against his slick back is hard and smells like fresh furniture polish, like it had just been cleaned moments before sweaty, frantic bodies thudded onto its surface. Rhys’ bare skin squeaks against the polished wood as the body atop him grinds into him, shoving him backward, his mechanical arm splaying out only to knock over a teetering stack of paperwork, the papers fluttering down to the floor like a flock of frightened birds.

Neither party seemed to pay the discarded paperwork much mind. There were other, more pressing matters to be tended to. The slick bodies against one another, the touching of frenzied fingers, the slide of wet tongues on necks and the small sting when lips gave way to teeth…it was all more important. Rhys looked up to the body trapping him to the oversized desk through a heavy fan of dark lashes, his mouth open just slightly, huffing out weak little pants of air.

His counterpart was just as frazzled as him, milk chocolate colored bangs sagging over false flesh, eyes heavy lidded and lips shaping around breathy moans. Rhys was suddenly very aware of the entirety of his surroundings. Such surroundings that included Jack pressing him into the dark wood of the desk, the older man’s frantic fingers curled around the sharps of Rhys’ jutting hipbones, and Jack’s body moving hard and fast against his. Rhys could feel Jack within him, his tight right of muscle stretched around thick girth, puckered flesh rendered red and raw from an extended period of rough sex. Rhys arched backward, twitching fingers finding Jack’s sweat slick shoulders, nails digging into perfect flesh that Rhys knew so very well. Jack’s hand came to push back Rhys’ hair from his face, his palm large, Rhys catching a glimpse of the old ink wrapped around his thick wrist. The motion would have been almost gentle if Jack had not followed it up with a hard tug to the roots of Rhys’ scalp. Rhys cringed and screwed his eyes shut, snarl forcing through his panting lips.

“God you feel so fucking good…” Jack husked to the younger man and Rhys takes it as a compliment because it is most likely the closest he will ever come to one with Jack.

Jack’s palm leaves its hold on the young man’s amber locks to aid his left hand in grabbing the undersides of Rhys’ mid thighs and splaying the boy open like a god damned offering. Rhys lets it happen only moaning appreciatively as he is spread wide just like any good worshipper should. He worships the way Jack fucks him, hard and sloppy his hips struggling to find a smooth rhythm. His humps are jerky and off pace, stopping once and a while to simply bury himself to the hilt in the young man’s ass and groan at the tightness of Rhys pulsating around him.

Rhys’ hardness bobbed before him shamelessly, flicking specs of leaked pre up his stomach as Jack thrust into him mercilessly. The air was so thick it was nearly unbearable, Rhys was left gasping and panting, the heavy scent of sex settling deep within his nostrils. Jack was so much bigger against him, his frame wide and daunting as he trapped Rhys to the desk. Rhys couldn’t find it in himself to question the scenario, how they got here, or what events had lead up to it. All that mattered right then was the feeling of Jack sliding out, then stuffing back into him, cock throbbing slightly as Rhys clenched down around him involuntarily. Rhys’ stomach tightened and his fingers scraped over sun kissed, darkened skin. Rhys was pale in contrast with the Ex-Hyperion CEO’s tanned skin. Rhys was pristine against him, like new china just come from the cabinet. Jack was much less so. A ragged scar scribed up over Jack’s left peck like a bolt of lightning, interrupting the otherwise flawless caramel colored skin. Another decorated over the deep ‘v’ leading down into his groin, but it was less ragged and resembled more of a bullet wound. His back was riddled with indentions and scars, old and new and in-between. The imperfections were interesting beneath Rhys’ curious fingers, he could not help but to touch and feel and relish in them.

Rhys sighed weakly against Jack’s chest, his chin pressed into his collar, his eyes falling closed in a relaxed fashion. Jack was gentle for the most part, thrusting and crooning over Rhys, fawning over him the way any normal lover might.

It was good and Rhys was lost in the throes of hard, beautiful, jarring, slick, sex. His body deteriorated into frantic tingles of electricity, so warm and pleasant as they swam through his bones. Oh it was good. The kind of good that makes you forget your own name, or what day of the week it is. The kind of good that allows everything else to simply sink away and fade from reality. The kind of good that makes everything ok and everything right. The kind of good that fills all the hollow spaces and paints pictures of beautiful things behind one’s eyes.

Jack kissed Rhys hard and deep, mouth open and tongue exploring behind his perfect teeth. Rhys sucked Jack’s tongue and licked along the bottom of his lithe anatomy. Teeth clacked together when Jack pushed forward too quickly and Rhys tilted to the side too hard.

Rhys’ fingers moved from Jack’s broad, thick shoulders to his sagging, heavy locks. The strands of hair were soft between Rhys’ fingers, sliding against the pads of his thumbs, over his knuckles. Jack seemed to lull at the feeling of Rhys’ fingers in his hair, mouth moving away from Rhys’ for a moment to moan hotly against his lips. The sound was delicious as it brushed against Rhys’ senses hot and heavy and needy. It was a sound that Handsome Jack was not supposed to make. A sound that was weak with need for the flesh beneath him. A sound that was begging for the tightness around him. A sound that was breathy and wrecked. It was a sound that did not fall on the ears of mortals very often, and yet lying there like some porn star model, sprawled across the length of Jack’s workspace…Rhys was graced with every shameless sound Jack had welled up within him.

Rhys could not have wanted anything else in that moment. All he wanted was the glorious feeling of Jack fawning over his body, using him for pleasure and giving it to him in the very same breath. Rhys lost whatever dignity he’d walked in the door with, the sounds bubbling up from his chest being enough to make a hooker blush like a virgin. He was not shy about his state, bucking his hips back into Jack’s thrusts greedily, wanting more, needing more. The boy was a cock hungry little thing, wanting and starving for the big cock forcing into his tight little hole. His moans came off like prayers to Jack’s senses. God the way he prayed. The way he begged. He begged better than a sinner at the altar. It was the _tone_ that he pleaded in. Something low, but trailing off him something high and needy at the end of each phrase. Each word breathed like an exhale of thick smoke from a long bong hit. It had Jack high on the very sound.

God the kid was fucking pretty, lean and slender, ‘breakable’ being the first word coming to Jack’s head. The kid was breakable, and god did Jack want to shatter him. He wanted the little thing to be left in fucking _pieces_ when he was done with him.

Jack leaned down suddenly, invading Rhys’ personal space, breathing into his ring of air blatantly.

“Do you trust me Rhys?” Jack whispered suddenly, his lips pressed to the corner of Rhys’ mouth.

In that moment Rhys was unsure of what he was trusting Jack with. In the outside world Jack was something he feared, something he dreaded, something he could not control and something he could not handle. But here, in the confines and safety of his head, here where Jack fucked him hard yet gentle Rhys trusted in him. He trusted him to give him pleasure beyond what he could offer himself. The question was loaded and Rhys knew that. Should he answer wrong, things could deteriorate into a nightmare very quickly. Rhys wanted this. He needed this. He needed it all to be real…even if just for a moment.

“Yes.” Rhys breathed huskily.

“Why?” Jack snarled kissing up to Rhys’ temple softly, eyelids blanketing over glistening incongruous eyes.

“Because we are in this together.” Rhys panted hard, chest rising and falling with the heavy sentence.

“That’s right kiddo. I am you. You are me. We have to learn to get along kiddo. Look how easily we work. Look how well we go _together._ We were _made_ for this.” Jack hissed coming to nip Rhys’ tender lobe between his pearly teeth.

“….hah..mmmphh…hah…made…made for this…” Rhys moaned as Jack rolled his hips into him slower, his cock sliding in with trained control.

“Yes kiddo, we were made for this. Made for each other. Don’t you see how _easy_ this can be?” Jack whispered his voice so sincere it made Rhys’ stomach hurt.

There was poison in Jack’s words, and bad intentions behind his eyes. Rhys knew it, he saw it, but he didn’t care. It felt too good, too right, and so he fell deeper into the pit, listening to Jack stroke him up and down with his perfect words.

“Doesn’t it feel good Rhys? Doesn’t it feel _right?”_ Jack swooned his voice like tea and honey, warm and sweet all in one as Rhys swallowed it all down.

Rhys ate up Jack’s words like a starving dog, hungry for the attention being fed to him, salivating over the enticing meal before him. Jack grinned down at him as the young man did so. Oh it was too easy to swoon him back into his control.

“It feels good Jack…it feels so good…” Rhys near begged, hips jerking upward and thighs shuddering in Jack’s palms.

“We have let things get so…blurred pumpkin. Because we aren’t working _together._ I won’t hurt you Rhys. I’m here to _protect_ you. I want to make you more. I want to help you meet your fullest potential. Let me lift you up Rhys. You _need_ me and I _need_ you. I’d do anything to keep you safe…because you are important to me.” Jack cooed the thick words down into Rhys’ ear.

There was little truth behind the sentences dripping off Jack’s tongue. Some may have been, but Rhys knew majority wasn’t. Or so he thought. He wasn’t sure. His mind was too blurred. He wanted to believe the Jack fucking into him soft and considerate. He wanted to believe the Jack whispering nothings into his eardrum. He wanted to believe it all, and so in this wanton state he just allowed himself to do so.

Rhys nodded furiously at Jack, letting the words wash over him like water, cool and clear and new.

“You belong to me Rhys. You are part of me. I protect what is mine Rhys.” Jack whispered and Rhys shuddered at the twisting words.

“You have to trust me, and only me.” Jack added breathlessly.

With that Rhys could hear footsteps coming from behind him. Rhys crooned his neck, trying to grasp at the source of the noise. A figure came forth, slow and steady, steps graceful and calculated. He was so pretty, not just walking across the floor, but floating. Floating with every fragile step.

Walnut locks swooped up and back swaying with his every movement, wicked but gorgeous scar branded across his slender face like a medal of honor, small triangle of facial hair patched on his chin. He was beautiful. Rhys was pretty sure he’d never seen anything more enthralling in all his fucking life. Jack’s eyes flicked up for a moment, hands still spreading Rhys apart obscenely, body still trapping him to the desk.

“Nice of you to join us Timothy.” Jack snarled his invitation pointed and thick as the other man approached.

The other man said nothing, simply stood flush to the other side of the desk, opposite Jack, standing closest to Rhys’ head. Big familiar hands ran through Rhys’ sweaty locks, the fingers matching those gripped so tightly around his thighs. Rhys moaned into the touch, letting his eyes flutter closed, rosy lips falling open into a weak oval of approval.

“Oh Rhys how do you let him do this to you?” Timothy swooned, his hands soothing and wanting as they combed through the amber locks provided.

Rhys did not answer, only moaned against the hard anatomy hovering just out of reach of his lips.

“You are too pretty to be told such lies.” Timothy insisted.

“Then whisper truths to me.” Rhys husked gently tipping his throat, lips just barely brushing the doppelgangers livid, crimson, head.

Timothy made a low sound in his throat that was nearly a moan, but not quite.

“All he wants to do is use you Rhys. You are more than just his puppet. Let me have you, you gorgeous boy. Let me teach you what you can be.” Timothy whispered eyes half lidded as he watched the pretty thing spread over the desk like butter wrap his hungry lips around the side of the doppelganger’s hard cock.

Rhys moaned loudly at the words, allowing them to crawl deep under his skin and tuck away behind his muscles. Tim gently cupped the sides of Rhys’ face, easing into the slender man’s wet, swollen lips. Rhys’ tongue came to flick and tease at Tim’s underside, running the crevice of his slit, the walnut haired man’s dick throbbing at the touch, spending a small bead of pre-cum into the mouth provided. The groan that vibrated up off Tim’s ribs was loud and guttural, his whole body shivering with the sound. Rhys slid the length of the other man’s cock into his throat skillfully, allowing the gorgeous man to stretch the corners of his mouth. He was so heavy on his tongue, the angle of Rhys’ body creating an entirely new challenge he had never been faced with. Regardless the boy sucked and lapped like his very life depended on it. He only moaned louder around the intrusion when Timothy began to slowly fuck into his lips, hips rolling gently, never thrusting too far or too eager. He was so conscientious of how much the boy could take, pulling back when Rhys would gag and shudder around him.

“You are so pretty Rhys.” Timothy complimented smoothly, his voice identical to the man at Rhys’ other end.

Jack’s hips had not ceased, only picked up in their pace if anything, rutting into Rhys like a ragdoll, jolting the young man every so often. Rhys’ moans are muffled by the hardness in his mouth and Jack is displeased with that, displeased that he cannot hear the sounds that his _property_ is making.

“Say my name Rhys.” Jack snarled suddenly the sentence coming out as more of a barked command than anything else.

Rhys lets Timothy’s wet erection slip from his mouth for a moment and looks starry eyed down at Jack, his face smeared with spit, his chin sparkling in the low office lighting.

“J-Jack…” Rhys husks shamelessly.

“Louder. Let me hear who owns you Rhys. Who is your master?” Jack hisses lowly.

“Ah-AH! J-JACK! OH JACK! YOU OWN ME JACK!!”Rhys yells his vice ragged as a tatter cloth.

His voice strains and dips when Jack pivots his hips and presses right against the sensitive bundle of nerves buried deep in Rhys’ body. Then Rhys is moaning like a virgin on prom night, sounds vicious and loud, body scrambling over the desk wildly.

“Such beautiful things belong to nobody. You don’t belong to him Rhys.” Timothy whispered hands gentle as they opened Rhys’ mouth back up and slid between his puffy lips.

Rhys nodded in confusion, caught between two sides and two waves of pleasure. Jack thrust into Rhys’ body hard, and Rhys groaned around Timothy, in turn getting a low moan from the doppelganger’s chest.

“You could be mine, but only if you wanted. You could choose. You always have a choice.” Timothy whispered his voice laced with the lust of the situation and the want to make Rhys feel important and safe.

“He’s spoken for.” Jack snarled fingers digging deep into the soft of Rhys’ thighs.

Rhys made an utterly blissful sound as Jack pressed against his sweet spot once more, moan muffled by the lover at his front.

“Says who?” Timothy whispered languidly thrusting into Rhys’ warm mouth, shuddering as the young man’s tongue swirled around his underside.

“Says me, kiddo.” Jack hissed his face contorted between pleasure and anger with the other man having joined his private party.

“He has a right to choose.” Timothy whispered hands lulling through the damp amber hairs on Rhys’ head.

“No he doesn’t. He is mine. I can protect him.” Jack barked voice thick with heady need.

“I can protect him just as well.” Timothy hissed back eyebrows knitting over closed eyes.

Rhys made a muffled sound as he slid his lips down over Timothy’s girth fluidly, pumping his mouth skillfully as he took him again and again.

“I want you both.” Rhys panted letting loose of Timothy’s hardness.

Jack grinned at the pathetic young man, his smile full of venom and shadow.

“For now, that’s what you’ll get.” Jack husked.

Timothy nodded.

“You can have as much of us as you want beautiful.” Tim whispered slowly working back into Rhys’ warm maw.

Rhys lulls into the feeling of having the mirror images so willingly giving him pleasure in such large quantities. It’s more glorious than he ever could have imagined. It’s delicious and guilty and Rhys doesn’t care that he shouldn’t, because he wants it, and he does it anyway. He feels full. Full on both ends and it’s so good. Better than anything he’s ever experienced.

Jack leans down, letting loose of Rhys’ left leg, freeing his hand to run up the thrum of Rhys’ pulse. Jack lays down several hard bites to the pale man’s throat, just hard enough to leave perfect little bruises in his wake. Rhys squirms and bears down harder onto Jack’s cock, wanting more, wanting it all.

“You’re so greedy cupcake.” Jack whispered nipping at Rhys’ tilted chin.

Rhys let loose of Timothy’s erection for just long enough to allow Jack to kiss him with all tongue and teeth. Rhys tasted like arousal, so husky and sharp on Jack’s senses. As the kiss deepened, Jack was reaching up to curl his big hand around the slick cock of his doppelganger, thumb pressing into the slightly younger man’s slit, resulting in him leaking pre down onto Rhys’ cheek.

Jack pulled back from Rhys’ mouth, wiping his chin with the back of his hand and sneering at the young man’s absolutely _wrecked_ appearance.

“Let me hear you say it.” Jack whispered tapping a finger to Rhys’ lips.

“I-I’m a greedy whore!” Rhys moaned out arching his back up slightly.

Rhys crooned up to lick against Tim’s cock after breathing his shameless proclamation and Jack seemed overly pleased at the boy’s words.

“That’s right you are. You are _our_ whore.” Jack husked his eyes flicking up to the solid blue gaze of the doppelganger.

“Oh so we are sharing now?” Timothy quipped breathlessly as Rhys hollowed his cheeks around his thick erection.

“Sharing? Oh no kiddo, I don’t _share._ I am allowing you to partake in my property, because my whore wants you here too.” Jack snarled viciously his eyes dangerously playful as he jarred his hips into Rhys hard and sudden.

Timothy rolled his eyes and grunted lowly, rocking his hips into Rhys’ pretty little mouth.

“Right. Of course.” Timothy quipped huffing out loudly.

“Anything to keep my pretty slut happy.” Jack swooned to Rhys the young man’s cock throbbing and weeping at the name calling.

“Oh does Rhysie like being called names?” Jack snapped through a wide grin.

Rhys nodded furiously, Tim’s erection still in his lips his eyes squeezed shut as he took more of the doppelganger into his orifice.

“You hear that, he likes to be called names. So how’s about you make him happy and call him something nice and raunchy.” Jack sniggered to the other man thrusting into Rhys’ sloppy mouth.

Timothy’s expression screwed up into something wicked, thin smile breaking his lips deviously.

“There we go you pretty little harlot. Suck my big cock nice and easy, suck it good and I’ll give you a nice…big…reward.” Timothy growled down at Rhys and the young man shivered involuntarily, moaning a small almost indecipherable ‘yes’ around Tim’s erection.

Jack cocked an eyebrow at his double and chuckled slow and taunting.

“I have to say I’m impressed. I did teach you well after all.” Jack hissed eyes drawing over Rhys’ vaulting body in a pleased fashion.

“You like that baby? You like that you dirty, nasty, little thing? You like being filled in every one of your tight little holes? Oh of course you do…because you are so…fucking…cock hungry.” Jack groaned his palm flattening over Rhys’ heaving stomach.

Rhys’ mechanical arm reached backward to rest on Tim’s hip, the cold impact getting a surprised hiss from the bigger male. Rhys was in too much of a haze to notice the other man’s discomfort from the metal arm. Suddenly Jack’s fingers curled around Rhys’ abandoned cock, providing it with the much needed attention that it lacked. Rhys jolted and cried out his voice vibrating around Tim’s hardness, getting a loud moan from the doppelganger.

“You have such a talented mouth. Things as pretty as you aren’t supposed to know how to suck cock like this. You’re a little closet whore aren’t you?” Timothy questioned huskily.

Rhys nodded obediently, doing his best to answer his question without actually having to take his mouth off the beautiful man before him.

“That’s what I like to hear. I don’t like things to be too innocent. You are just the right dosage of _bad.”_ Timothy hissed in a praising tone that sent pleasant tingles right down to the base of Rhys’ spine.

The noises coming forth from Rhys’ throat were pleading and gorgeous, he was falling to absolutely pieces and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. The two beautiful men at his front and back filling him and pulling him, praising him with nasty names that only made his cock grow harder with every syllable. Jack’s wrist flicked up Rhys’ throbbing erection, skin bundling beneath his head with every upstroke, clear fluid seeping from his tip and running down his underside uselessly. Jack smeared the pe-cum out over Rhys’ rosy head grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Oh Rhysie you’re like a little leaky faucet aren’t you?” Jack teased meanly, his thrusts stilling for a moment as he let Rhys’ cock throb and twitch in his palm, squeezing Rhys’ head just a little harder than what was comfortable.

The pinch of Jack’s fingers only made Rhys throb harder. His brain was a confused soup of pain and pleasure, full and breathless and needy. Jack was teasing on purpose. Rhys was so close, body shuttering with the fierce need of release, but Jack’s mean fingers and stilled hips kept him just out of orgasms reach.

Jack knew this of course.

“What’s wrong cupcake, tell daddy what’s the matter?” Jack soothed rolling Rhys’ swollen head between his thumb and forefinger.

“Ah! Hah! J-Jack…I need it…I-I’m so c-close!” Rhys panted letting go of Timothy’s cock, a small string of saliva dribbling off the doppelganger’s bouncing erection.

“Is that so kitten? Tell me, how bad to you want it?” Jack teased his fingers ghosting down Rhys’ shaft, over his sack, the anatomy pulled tight to his body with arousal.

Jack pushed a finger against the skin stretched around his cock, getting a hiss from the man beneath him as he slipped the digit in alongside his erection.

“B-BAD! I want it SO BADLY!!! PLEASE!!!” Rhys cried out as if in pain.

“Mmm he is a good beggar.” Timothy cooed leaning down over Rhys to kiss along his human shoulder, lips sliding to his collarbone.

Tim’s hand wandered down his own body, fisting his erection and stroking himself slow and fluidly.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself. Should we let the little thing finish? He seems so flustered.” Jack swooned wriggling the finger in the tight space teasingly.

Rhys cringed and groaned out, overwhelmed by Jack inside of him and Tim kissing him. Tim nuzzled his nose against the young man’s chin, searching for his lips and silently finding them. He silenced the young man with his mouth as Jack suddenly took his finger from Rhys’ body and began pumping his hand up the amber haired man’s livid cock once more. Rhys groaned and cried against the doppelganger’s lips.

He felt so frazzled, body simply short circuiting from all the undivided attention. He was a wreck, simply deteriorating around himself and the two men fawning over him.

Rhys’ balls pulled tight into himself, his thighs tensing harshly in Jack’s palm, cock hardening frantically. Rhys threw his head back with such force he cracked it onto the wood of the desk. It hurt, but in the span of things it was of little matter to him.

With that he was coming. Orgasm clawing and ripping over him like some beast let loose through his body. His cock spent itself up over his abdomen in hard, long, explosive cumshots. Rhys cringed and turned away as he successfully came over his face and neck, his red cheeks painted stringy white. Rhys’ cries shifted from Timothy’s name to Jack’s unable to decide between the two, and sometimes mixing them together in his frantic breaths. There was so much cum littered over his heaving chest, running down his stomach brazenly. He came and came, until he had nothing left to give, the last remnants of his finish dribbling down over Jack’s clenched fingers lazily. Jack slowly released Rhys’ wilting cock and observed the mess made of his digits. Jack leaned forward, prodding Rhys’ mouth for entrance and Rhys obeyed willingly. Jack offered him the dirtied fingers and Rhys obediently sucked them clean, running his tongue over the warm digits dazedly. Jack retracted his fingers and wiped the spit on Rhys’ chest grinning wide and wolfish as he curled both hands around Rhys’ thighs again. Jack’s hips began their forward motion again, taking on a harder, more frantic pace as his own need built in his gut.

“Oh you are a dirty little thing. I hope you have room for seconds.” Timothy snarled his hand working his cock fast and slick.

Rhys’ eyes flicked over to the large erection just above his nose, Tim’s head angry red and wet, finish not too far off. Rhys nodded willingly.

“P-please.” Rhys asked opening his mouth wide, tongue coming out readily.

Timothy groaned at the sight, palm stroking faster, fingers squeezing harder.

“You gunna swallow every last drop?” Timothy husked his eyes near closed, his breaths deteriorating into erratic pants.

Rhys squirmed slightly, leaning up so his tongue was just touching with the bottom of Tim’s head, tasting his thick pre-cum.

“Yes. I want it all.” Rhys begged in the best way he knew possible.

Timothy let loose of a pathetic sound that was embarrassing to say the least and he was stroking downward, cock pointed to Rhys’ open mouth. The first expel missed and painted up across Rhys’ eye, the young man blinking it shut quickly. The second hit its mark, slathering across Rhys’ extended tongue, white and thick and warm. Timothy moaned out uselessly as he came into the half cybernetic man’s pretty little mouth. Tim gently tapped his head against Rhys’ bottom lip, shaking loose a glob of finish and Rhys closed his mouth to swallow appreciatively.

A thin line of cum and saliva ran down over Rhys’ chin and dribbled down his neck. Tim swiped his thumb up the trail slowly, collecting it on the pad of his finger. He instructed Rhys to open, and Rhys did, willingly sucking the pretty man’s thumb clean, as if not wanting to waste a drop.

Jack was not far behind the two other men, his grunts becoming more animalistic, his hips sloppy and his pace merciless. His fingers were near painful as they dug into the pale man’s flesh, his hair falling over the man made flesh of his mask, the small hinges glistening in the faint light. Timothy was sitting down on the desk, leaning over to kiss Rhys’ lips as Jack fucked him, the taste of both of their finishes still heavy on Rhys’ moving tongue.

Rhys’ soft cock flopped over his chest, wagging with the hard movement from Jack, small sounds of lazy pleasure the only thing coming from the boy. Timothy stroked his hair and kissed his port, getting little looks of enthrallment from the young man.

“You are so pretty when you are utterly wrecked.” Timothy cooed to Rhys’ ear.

Jack was yelling curses and prayers, his neck flushed where as his mask was not. The sounds of Jack’s balls slapping against Rhys’ body echoed through the room, the sweat between them near unbearable, slick and disgusting. Rhys arched and sighed allowing Timothy to treat him like some honorable thing as he kissed and cooed sweet nothings to him.

“Oh fuck I’m gunna fill you up you little fucking slut!!!” Jack bellowed as his hips stilled, body pressed flush to the young man, hands twitching as they clamped down.

He buried his lip between his perfect teeth hard and with that Rhys could feel the rush of Jack finishing within him, thick fluid rushing through him in that pleasant way that made Rhys shiver. Jack panted over Rhys, hips halfheartedly thrusting into the abused hole, the flesh red and worried as it fluttered and pulsed around his erection. Jack’s cock jumped with each expulsion, filling the young man with all he had, refusing to pull out until he’d emptied every last bit into the body provided. Jack sagged over the man beneath him then, hair hanging and body shimmering with sweat. The older man slowly pulled himself from the confines of Rhys’ body, a thick trail of cum dribbling out of Rhys’ gaping hole the fluid pooling on the desk obscenely. Rhys’ stretched ring of muscles contracted around empty space, the thickness no longer there to keep it spread wide. Timothy let Rhys lay his head down on his knee and Rhys sighed out long and low as Jack’s fingers came to stroke his sensitive stomach in a fond way that could only be attributed to post sex bliss. In all his life Rhys had never felt more utterly _satisfied_.

 

Suddenly Rhys’ eyes slated open tiredly. His blurry pupils shifted, and to his dismay he could only see out of one eye. Rhys groaned. Timothy and Jack were gone, and he was no longer covered in the finish of three different sex participants. He sighed out heavily, head heavy on the pillow provided. It slowly registered just how fucking much his body…hurt. Why did he hurt so badly? What had Jack done?

“Seriously? Why the fuck would you twist my dreams into that?” Rhys grouched to the air, the pointed comment meant for his less than ideal counterpart.

There was no answer. Not a peep.

Rhys shifted onto his back. Jack was absolutely silent. Rhys frowned deeply. If it hadn’t been Jack messing with his dreams…that meant that wild threesome of a disaster…was all his doing. Rhys shuddered in embarrassment.

“What…the fuck...” Rhys moaned loudly.

 


	14. Hunting Ghosts is Best Done With a Partner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Rhys, I feel like I have been nothing but awful to him in this story. *gives him Tim* There. All better. XD Timothy is such a sweetheart...and can actually relate to what Rhys is going through with Jack's manipulation. In this story Timmy really, really, REALLY hates Jack. But Rhys on the other hand, is still undeniably loyal to Jack in some ways, even though Jack is literally destroying Rhys. Stockholm at it's best folks. So just to like reassure everybody just because this story is headed for the Rhys/Timmy track, the Rhys/Jack train aint slowin' down one bit in this story. ;)

Hunting Ghosts is Best Done with a Partner

Rhys tries to sit up, but his head immediately throbs with white hot pain and it’s enough to cause him to thud back down onto the pillow in agony. Rhys clutches his head in pain, only to find there is something foreign blocking the vision in his right eye. He reaches up to touch the unfamiliar protrusion wrapped around his socket, and it’s unnervingly cold to the touch. Rhys’ good eye rolls around in confusion, only to be very suddenly met by the all too familiar blue gaze that had just been swimming through his dreams.

Rhys immediately tries to sit up once more, his head protesting with just as much ferocity as the first attempt, but he toughs it out. Rhys looks to the now somewhat familiar doppelganger, trying to shove the absolutely disgusting thoughts from his fucked up little dream out of his head. Rhys touches the cold mass on his face again, good eye full of concern as he soaks in the other man.

“Don’t mess with it. It’s just an ice pack.” Timothy whispers to the young man.

Something about his tone is different than the last time Rhys spoke to the doppelganger. Not counting the dream 'Timothy' that had shoved his dick down Rhys’ throat. Rhys swallowed and shook the thought away in annoyance.

“Ouch…w-why the hell does my face hurt??” Rhys hissed rubbing his jaw a little and cringing when it proved extremely sore to the touch.

There’s only a pause of silence from the other company in the room and Rhys immediately does not take that as a good sign.

“Your ghost and I had an altercation.” Timothy says flatly getting up out of his seat and standing next to the bed, crooning over to gently take the ice pack off, peering beneath to check on the wounded man’s eye.

He was going to have quite the shiner for a while that was for damned sure. Tim carefully replaced the ice pack, getting a little flinch and a grimace from Rhys in response. Rhys groaned outwardly. Of course this was Jack’s fault. Of course it was, he should have known better by now. Most the time it was _always_ Jack’s fault when Rhys woke up bloody, bruised, and sore. This little song and dance was getting pretty old, pretty quick.

“Fuck.” Rhys cursed shaking his head in dismay.

“I’m sorry for punching him…you…in the face.” Tim said flatly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, the mattress creaking with his weight.

“I honestly can’t blame you.” Rhys whispered gritting his teeth.

Timothy just grunted at the young man’s response. Timothy had not yet settled down from all the excitement, all the horrid memories having come flooding back in the presence of a ghost that was supposed to have been long since buried in a deep grave. He had not been prepared for the wave of emotions the incident had brought forth. Timothy had stored all those old wounds away a long time ago, at the time he thought that would be the last he’d ever see of them. Jack was supposed to be dead. Really dead. Dead to the world, dead to Hyperion, dead to Timothy, and yet here he was, appearing as some wretched creature attached to this poor kids being. Timothy couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to have to share a body with that psychopath.

Timothy shivered at the thought alone.

“You really have a lot of explaining to do…kiddo…I mean…Rhys.” Timothy whispered his eyes dark as they settled on Rhys.

Rhys slumped over the bed, his shoulders heaving with a heavy sigh expelled from the depths of his lungs.

“Where do I even start…” Rhys whispered sighing softly.

He might as well tell the doppelganger everything, the man hadn’t turned him in yet, and he’d chosen not to kill him despite knowing what was floating around within his brain. Even knowing that the AI was stored up in Rhys’ echo system Tim still seemed to have no desire to turn Rhys in for the bounty. The man at least deserved to know what he’d gotten himself into.

Rhys looked to his lap and then back to the doppelganger. He best do it now, his brain seemingly rattled enough to where Jack was out of commission for a while.

Rhys told the doppelganger every last detail. Starting with the betrayal up on Helios, leading up to Rhys inserting Nakayama’s flash drive into his port, becoming…infected with the Handsome Jack AI. He told Timothy everything, more information slipping from his lips than he’d really meant to let go of, but it all came out anyway. It all just came forth like some great waterfall, slipping over Rhys’ lips without his control. He told the doppelganger of the manipulation, the killing, Jack saving him, Jack wanting to use him, Jack nearly killing Fiona, Jack taking over his body, the internal battle with the ex-Hyperion CEO that had left Rhys on the brink of insanity. He told Timothy of his decision to simply wander out into the desert…and never return.

“It was just better that way. Jack’s dangerous…I’m dangerous. I was a danger to all of my friends and I am still a very real danger to this planet. If Jack gets back to Helios…it’s all over with…he’ll ruin this place. He’ll take over Hyperion again…” Rhys whispered breathing out shakily.

Rhys’ fingers curled in the sheets hard, teeth snarling up into an ashamed grimace, his good eye screwing shut as he tried to swallow down more tears. God he was being so pathetic. He barely even knew this man and yet he’d already fallen apart in front of him like some weak child. He was weak after it all, his body tired, his brain aching, his heart hurting. He was alone, with no friends and no way out of this…Timothy was the only thing even close to an ally or comrade of any sort that Rhys had. Timothy listened, never interjecting, never stopping Rhys, simply watching and hanging on every word that came loose from Rhys’ lips.

It was painful for Timothy to watch the young man explain it all. It was so painful to watch him fall apart all due to the insanity and horrors Jack had put him through. Timothy watched with sorrowful eyes, his shoulder falling slightly. He knew what this was like…he knew so very well. Only this poor kid had it so much worse than Timothy ever did. Back when Jack was alive, Timothy could get away from the monster Jack had become. Timothy still had control of his own body, his own thoughts, Jack may have controlled him in other ways, but Timothy was never forced to give up something so precious as his free will. Jack was a parasite and Rhys was but his host, being yanked and pulled Jack’s games. Rhys was thrown back and forth from wanting to please Jack and wanting to hate him. One moment he talked of Jack like a hero who had saved him from a terrible outcome when faced with the business end of a shotgun, the next he spoke of Jack like a monster who took what wasn’t his and spilled blood on Rhys’ hands.

“He only keeps me alive because if I die…he dies too. He needs me…but only because he needs my body.” Rhys hissed his fists shaking wildly.

“He’s like a disease…he’s so far entwined within my echo system…within my body…I don’t know if we can ever be separated. I’m stuck like this…with him…” Rhys wailed as if the reality of it all was finally crashing down on him.

“It’s better…it’s better if you just kill me…” Rhys whispered softly.

Timothy pushed his eyebrows together in concern and sadness.

“Rhys I’m not going to do that.” Timothy said shaking his head, his hand finding Rhys’ knee.

“You have to!!! YOU HAVE TO!!! If I’m alive, Jack’s alive! If Hyperion finds me…I…I can’t live with myself if that happens!!!” Rhys sobbed pitifully.

Timothy squeezed Rhys’ knee hard, stern, forcefully.

“Rhys! Stop!” Timothy shouted shocking Rhys right out of his frantic state.

“I don’t want to be like this forever!!” Rhys cried

Timothy’s fingers soothed the other man’s leg, drawing slow, small circles meant to give silent comfort in the best way he could.

“You don’t deserve to die just because you’ve been forced into this…unfortunate situation. Don’t give Jack that satisfaction. This…this can be overcome.” Timothy hissed.

“Look I’m not gunna turn you in, I’m not going to let Hyperion find you. I’ve kinda made a living out of keeping just out of their clutches…I can do the same for you.” Timothy offered his eyes warm in the same sense that they were intense.

Rhys looked at the doppelganger through his one, weepy eye, mouth curved downward in a deep frown.

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t want to drag anybody else into this mess. Jack nearly killed one of my friends already and I could barely stop him…what if he decides to kill you...Jack’s unpredictable. I can’t control when or where he takes over my body.” Rhys whispered wiping at his nose softly.

Timothy let a small sigh pass his lips and he shook his head.

“You don’t have to explain to me how unpredictable Jack is. I know he is. Trust me I know. I worked for him…a long time ago. He’s a monster Rhys…a fucking monster. But he isn’t anything I can’t…handle.” Timothy breathed.

“I know how to deal with him. As disgusted as I am to be faced with him again…I can help…really…I want to help.” Timothy continued sucking in a slow breath and letting his eyes close for much longer than the standard blink.

“You don’t deserve to be left alone in this. Consider me a friend Rhys, because I know…in a way…what you’re going through. If you’ll let me…I can keep you safe.” Timothy offered his look genuine and caring as he gave it to Rhys.

“I can keep him under control. That’s one thing about this planet…it doesn’t leave room for a man to be soft…it’s taught me how to survive. Taught me how to fight. Whether it’s fighting ghosts or skags, it’s all the same to me.” Timothy whispered softly.

“You do have a pretty mean left hook…I can attest to that…” Rhys chuckled pointing to the ice pack, the mood lightening for however short of a moment.

Timothy smiled just slightly and rubbed the back of his head.

“I am really sorry for that. I tried not to getcha in the echo eye, because trust me I know how disastrous that shit can be.” Timothy joked lightly, tapping his own echo eye softly.

There were slight smiles exchanged between the two men for a moment, eyes glistening with something other than utter sadness. For a moment…it was…nice. There was something unspoken there, echo eyes locking together like some strange thing. Rhys felt all the breath leave him for a moment and he was unsure of the alien feeling. Like a sense of electricity that was unexpected and new.

But just as quickly as the moment came, it was gone, fading like a wisp of smoke from a candle having been snuffed out in the dark.

The small laughter faded and silence consumed the two counterparts like the great monster it was once more.

Rhys just stared at the sickeningly familiar man, Timothy’s frown shifting the scar on his face slightly. The scar was deep, and ragged, mean looking and Rhys grimaced just thinking about how painful it must have been. What could have made such an awful wound? Just looking into the doppelganger’s eyes Rhys could see a mirror image of the hurt that was swelling within himself. There was old hurt lurking there in the other man’s eyes, this man that looked like Jack but in no sense of the word was Jack. This man that had dragged Rhys out of the desert and was now offering to open his home to Rhys. Rhys knew so little about this Jack lookalike, so very little, and already he felt very much so drawn to the strange man sitting so close to him on the bed. Timothy’s eyes were soft and they were hurt, they made Rhys truly believe that in some way Timothy somehow knew how it all felt, all the defeat, all the wanting to just give up and give in. Rhys really wanted to just give up…god he did. It would have been easier that way…but then again easy was not always the best.

Rhys sucked in a shallow breath and looked up unsurely eyes meeting with the cyan gaze just feet away from him.

“Let me help Rhys.” Timothy pushed farther lifting a hand to press it against Rhys’ ice pack, making sure it was still secure.

Timothy’s hands were large, but gentle in their touch. It seemed wrong for such big, rough looking hands to touch anything that softly and Rhys felt himself hanging on that fact for just a little too long. What had this man been through that made him so insistent on caring for the lanky ex-Hyperion worker? Rhys just couldn’t wrap his head around it. The fear that had flared in Timothy the second Jack’s hologram had appeared, that was a fear that was not often seen. That was the type of fear that came from the deepest depths of a soul. That was an old, vicious fear that was more than just fear itself. That was fear with reason behind it. That was a dark, nasty thing as black as tar and as thick as fog. That was something corrupt and awful. Whatever Jack had done to create that fear…it had been awful…Rhys knew that first hand.

“What did he do to you?” Rhys questioned, the question leaving his tongue before he could even hope to stop it.

He wanted to know. He just needed to know that he was not the only one so frightened of Jack and all that he was. He needed to know he wasn’t alone. Timothy had known Jack…the real one…the vicious murderer that was not just some disembodied ghost. Timothy had dealt with Jack in all his flesh and blood and tyranny.

Timothy’s face fell at the simple mention of it all. He looked down to the floor his lips pulled tight, a hard line across his slim, beautiful features.

“He _ruined_ me.” Timothy hissed his voice low and dangerous.

This time it was Rhys’ turn to offer some sort of comfort. It was a strange thing, the untold empathy passed between the two of them. Neither knew every detail of the horrid things Jack had done, but there was betrayal rampant in both their voices. Rhys had no idea what Timothy had been through, no, but something deep down told him…Jack had tricked him too. Jack had used him. Jack was good at that, using people like objects to simply get what he wanted out of the situation.

Rhys reached out, his shivering palm finding Timothy’s hand and curling within it. It was a stupid, childish gesture, like two children clutching hands while riding out some thunderstorm. But Timothy did not flinch away from the touch, he did not recoil from the offering of a comforting hand, so Rhys curled his fingers around the big, rough palm and held it tight.

“I won’t let him ruin anybody else.” Timothy whispered his voice shaking with utter, dripping determination.

 


	15. Cold Spots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh this chapter is long overdue. But I am finally done with it! Just to add some clarity, I'm sorry if anybody feels that Rhys is being a big baby in this story. Honestly Rhys is pretty much on the verge of losing his mind, so yes he's pretty fucked up. Honestly if you had the voice of a murderous ex-CEO up in your head I feel you'd be pretty crazy too. In this story I really view Rhys as a Hyperion underling that never left his desk much. So the events of being thrown down onto Pandora, seeing death for the first time up close and personal, and falling for Jack's mind games has left him in a very unstable state. So for clarity, Rhys isn't a 'crybaby'. He's an individual dealing with depression, anxiety and possibly bits and pieces of Stockholm syndrome. Just felt I needed to get that out there. Also this chapter starts into the relationship between Rhys and Tim, which I am very excited about! Hope everybody enjoys!

Cold Spots

**One Week Later:**

Rhys sat on the leather chair as instructed. He sat still and unmoving watching as the other man in the room sauntered around picking up tools and gadgets that Rhys didn’t know the name of. The entire room was a vast garage filled with every tool under the Pandoran sun, all hanging in rows, placed on overflowing shelves, spread out over the ground. It was a miracle the doppelganger could ever even find _anything_ in the wreck of a workshop. There was some rattling and clanging as Tim rummaged through a box of pieces and parts then a loud ‘aha!’ as he hauled out a large screwdriver looking object. Rhys just watched with curious eyes pupils following the other man’s every movement. He was a thing to watch really, interesting in the way he moved and mumbled to himself. He didn’t walk like Handsome Jack. He was awkward and clumsy at times. Rhys had already seen him trip over scattered tools twice in the hour that he’d been sitting so patiently in the workshop.

The man had on just an old white sleeveless shirt, littered with stains ranging from red to black in coloration. Some may have been blood, some may have been oil, it was hard to tell really. He had on a pair of green combat pants that looked about one size too big and he was constantly pulling up the back of his hem to keep them from falling off his ass, and his dirty work boots just brought the outfit all together.

Tim leapt over a box of gadgets and was hustling over to Rhys, grabbing his rolling stool, plopping down into it and gliding the rest of the way to the young man’s side.

“Here it is, this was just what I was lookin for.” Tim exclaimed putting the newfound tool down the other collection of tools he’d found over the last hour.

“And you are sure this is safe?” Rhys questioned slowly, cocking an unsure eyebrow at all the tools to his left.

Tim scoffed and nodded, rustling his hair with one of his oil covered hands gently.

“Of course. Kiddo I do this for a living. I know what I’m doing.” Tim reassured in that overly eager way he liked to talk.

His tone was always cheery and upbeat, so much different than the Jack Rhys knew so very well. Jack was not kind, Jack was not cheerful. The only time Jack took on that tone of voice was when he was getting his way with things, and at the moment he certainly was not. The cold static of Rhys’ ghost was ever present in the back of his skull, and Jack only twisted at the sound of his own name on Rhys’ thoughts.

“You know kiddo, I always gave you more credit than you really deserved. I mean honestly I thought you were smarter than this, don’t you remember what happened the last time you let someone fiddle with your arm? Oh yeah we almost _died._ That’s right. And I saved you…like always. I’m not saving your sorry ass this time around pumpkin.” Jack’s pointed words riled through Rhys’ temples.

Rhys cringed.

“Shut up Jack.” He snarled viciously.

Jack only churned at the rebellious words from his young host and he created an icy shock that pulsed through Rhys’ port unpleasantly. Rhys squinted an eye at the vicious feeling and grit his teeth.

“Since when is it ok for you to fucking talk to _me_ like _that?”_ Jack hissed maliciously.

Rhys didn’t answer.

Tim looked on with worried eyes, searching the amber haired male’s face for answers. Before Tim could question Rhys’ look of discomfort, there was a flicker of blue just behind Rhys’ head. Tim jumped backward a little and dropped the tool in his hand as Jack sneered from behind Rhys’ skull. Jack chuckled lowly at the doppelganger’s reaction and slowly sauntered around Rhys’ form. Tim’s expression darkened as he watched the hologram with displeased eyes.

Jack sighed out dramatically and folded his arms across his chest.

“Look, kiddos. I think we all got off on the wrong foot here. Let’s start this all over whaddya say?” Jack cooed leaning down toward Rhys and grinning slyly.

Rhys jerked away angrily and Jack shot him a displeased look.

“Kiddo, c’monnnn work with me here. All you’ve been doing is giving me the damned cold shoulder all friggin week. We gotta work _together_ on this. Look I know I’ve done some questionable things since we've been stuck together but trust me it was all to keep ya safe. It was all for your own good. I had the best intentions in mind.” Jack pouted sitting himself down on the arm of Rhys’ chair.

Rhys furrowed his eyebrows together hard.

“You nearly killed Fiona and tried to kill Tim. Both people that could have helped us.” Rhys argued viciously.

The past week had brought on a lot of tension between the two body mates. Maybe it was the ordeal of getting closer to death than he’d ever been before. He’d had many brushes with death since he’d been down on this hell hole of a planet, but out in the desert…that had been the closest. Rhys had been pushed and pulled and shoved more than he could handle and he was to his wits end with it all. The constant barrage of Jack’s sly words, the ghost whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Trying to will Rhys to come back to _his side._ Jack was all about the pretty words, but he had little to show in follow up actions. Rhys was a puppet. He knew that now.

Jack didn’t want to keep Rhys safe for Rhys’ wellbeing. Jack wanted Rhys safe so Rhys could deliver him up to Helios. Rhys was just the package that Jack came in. There had been a time when Rhys was somewhat ok with that. But not anymore. He was tired of Jack’s empty promises. He may have owed Jack his life on many occasions, but they were all because Jack was afraid of dying. Rhys was his body now, his host, and the high and mighty ex-CEO feared death more than anything else. That was something Rhys could hold above Jack’s head. Jack did not want to die, and if Rhys wanted it to be so he could end the both of them. Jack hadn’t thought the little wimp would actually go through with it, but out in that dusty landscape he’d proved to have more backbone to him than Jack had given him credit for. That was a worrying progression in events for the ghost living within Rhys’ veins. He needed a host that he could control, and slowly…Rhys was becoming less and less of that.

And it was all _his_ fault.

Jack glared across to the mirroring man sitting precariously on the shop stool. Tim only returned the vicious stare, eyes unwavering and unafraid.

The week had been filled with Tim nursing Rhys back to health. All the while the doppelganger gone 'wild bandit' had been filling Rhys’ head with utter nonsense. He was making Jack out to be the parasite here. Making Jack seem like some fatal disease that Rhys had to fight. Jack liked none of that. This stupid little body double was getting in the way of his plans. With him around Jack couldn’t manipulate Rhys the way he’d become accustomed to. The brunette haired man was just feeding rebellious ideas to Rhys with a silver spoon. It was a conflicting feeling settled down in the holograms gut. His eyes traveled over a piece of history there before him. A doppelganger that he had once paid so much money to have brought into reality. It was almost painful to look at him now, something Jack had groomed so passionately gone to such waste. Pandora had taken a hold of him and now she had him in her vicious teeth. There was but a mere hint of the doppelganger Jack had once been so very fond of. Tim had been a good boy, always listening always obeying. But now he was jeopardizing Jack’s entire plot to get himself back to power. It was bittersweet, to look upon that gorgeous face and to know that he was no better than the rest of the bandit scum that existed here. He was so strong, so wild, like some animal let loose on the landscape. It pained Jack’s heart to see such a thing. Part of him still ached for the pretty blue eyes now settled on him. He was no longer a perfect match of Jack, the wilds of Pandora having molded him into what he was now. But god Jack could remember a time when he was. The first time the young man had walked into his office Jack had been star struck to say the very least.

Tim had been perfect in every sense of the word. A little nervous when faced with the Hyperion CEO’s presence but Jack had found that weirdly attractive. Tim had been putty ready for molding, ready for shaping. He was so fresh and so new back then.

Now he was hard, and vicious. Part of that Jack knew to be his own fault. He’d pushed the doppelganger too hard. He’d broken him in ways that could not be glued back together. Part of Jack was sorry, but most of him was not. He’d done what was _necessary._

Jack sighed out low and long, the wheels behind his eyes turning slowly.

“Ok kiddo, ok. Those were both slightly…rash actions. You see I just don’t want any harm to come to your pretty little head. Pandora is wild, and you just aren’t cut out for it. You need me to keep you safe. So maybe I was a little overprotective…but I can change sweetheart. For you.” Jack cooed sweetly.

Rhys only scowled at the hologram darkly.

Rhys knew he wasn’t cut out for Pandora. He’d come with no knowledge of how to fight, or how to shoot. He’d been thrown into the landscape like a newborn calf to slaughter. But that didn’t mean he was as helpless as Jack made him out to be. He didn’t want to be that person anymore. The weak one left halfway insane by Jack’s constant picking at his brain. He didn’t want to be weak anymore. He didn’t want to be broken anymore. He was tired of being so easily pushed. He was tired of being so easily _controlled._

Jack’s words were hollow as they came. They were just more lies Jack spewed in a futile attempt to get a foothold back into Rhys’ brain. Rhys wouldn’t let that happen.

Tim busied himself in booting up the large computer to his right and gently plugged the Hyperion issued cords into Rhys’ port. Rhys cringed slightly, but it was not painful. Tim was gentle in his touches as he began sifting through codes and typing in passkeys.

“He isn’t as weak as you make him out to be Jack.” Tim said suddenly and both other men looked to the doppelganger.

Jack made a low sound in his throat and cocked an eyebrow at the doppelganger.

“Oh so you mean to tell me you think if you just dumped him into the middle of a Bandit camp he’d be just peachy huh kiddo?” Jack snarled in annoyance.

Tim did not look over to the blue ghost, his eyes busied in reading the codes on the screen before him.

“Right now, no.” Tim admitted his fingers clattering over the keyboard wildly.

Jack chortled and propped one leg up in his knee in triumph.

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t teach him.” Tim continued and Jack’s laughter choked off slowly.

“You’re wasting your time with that. The kid’s never seen anything other than the walls of his pretty little office back on Helios. He aint exactly fightin’ material hate to break it to you pumpkin.” Jack chuckled shaking his head.

Rhys frowned. He knew he wasn’t exactly the spitting image of a Pandoran native. Jack had a point, he’d been crammed up within the walls of Helios near all his life. Pandora and all its rough nature was far beyond what he could handle. He’d never so much as shot a gun in all his life. That was all Latin to him. Tim’s voice put so much faith in him and his ability to be taught. That had been the conversation of the hour as the week had dragged on. Tim seemed weirdly determined that despite Rhys being lanky, uncoordinated, and broken, he could teach him how to survive.

Tim didn’t answer, his fingers quickening their pace on the keys.

Suddenly Jack’s form jittered apart harshly, trying to reform but failing miserably. Jack looked down over himself and shot a glance over at Tim frantically.

“Hey watch it you’re messing with my systems kiddo.” Jack hissed.

Tim said nothing in return, only coded faster, the screen filling with strings of numbers that Rhys couldn’t really make out. Rhys looked to Tim and then to Jack.

Jack’s hologram sputtered wildly and the enraged ghost stood up from his seated position.

“What are you doing!!?? STOP!!!” Jack bellowed his voice full of static.

Rhys sat back in his chair, watching in horror as the hologram shattered into pieces and parts then disappeared completely. Jack’s vicious words faded from Rhys’ ears, and the room fell utterly silent. Rhys felt his heart thundering in his ribs, his frightened eyes flicking over to the doppelganger in confusion.

“Is…is he gone?” Rhys questioned slowly, fingers white on the arm rests of the leather seat.

Tim sighed and let his shoulder drop slightly.

“No. He’s still there. This is just a temporary jamming signal. No telling how long it will keep him out of your head. Could last a day, could last a week. No telling. I just couldn’t work with him barking into my ear like that.” Tim growled swiveling his chair to look at Rhys, a lopsided grin clinging to his thin features.

Rhys sighed out heavily and blinked slowly. The buzz in the back of his head was silent and gentle. There was no static ice filling the spaces of his brain, and for a moment…he felt somewhat normal. It had been a long time since he had been the only one enjoying his thoughts. It felt wonderful to simply be alone.

“Thank you.” Rhys whispered slowly.

Tim just smiled in return, the grin pulling one side of his awful scar taught as he did so. Rhys frowned at the scar running up one side of Tim’s face and down the other. It was deep, and old, the flesh pink with age and uneven with scar tissue.

“Did he do that to you?” Rhys asked suddenly.

He didn’t really think the question through before it was falling off his lips. It was intrusive and out of place. Rhys chewed his lip slowly and downcast his eyes.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.” Rhys whispered softly.

Tim shook his head slowly.

“It’s ok. I don’t mind. Yeah. He couldn’t stand to look at my face after his incident. Too painful for him I guess. If he couldn’t be perfect and beautiful anymore, I couldn’t either.” Tim shrugged and Rhys could see the flash of the old, painful memory in Tim’s eyes.

“I think it makes you look tough.” Rhys said smiling gently.

The comment pulled a chuckle out of Tim’s lungs and the doppelganger looked to Rhys with soft, gentle pupils. When Tim smiled it was an inviting thing, always genuine and always kind. It settled something deep and warm down below Rhys’ skin.

Rhys could feel the blush spreading out over his cheeks before he had a prayer of stopping it.

It was just the way Tim looked at him. The way his face seemed to soften when in Rhys’ company.

Tim was then rolling around Rhys’ chair, pushing the material of Rhys’ shirt to the side so he could get a look at the cybernetics. Tim grimaced at the inflamed nature of the skin.

“Whoever messed with this arm last sure did a number on you. You might wanna take your shirt off, I gotta detach this arm.” Tim grunted shaking his head.

Rhys complied slowly, the movement from his sore arm hard and painful.

Tim reached upward his fingers lifting the screwdriver to Rhys’ arm and gently began to release the cybernetic limb from Rhys’ shoulder. The skin around the limb was still slightly red and stirring with infection. Every turn of the screwdriver hurt. Rhys did his best to swallow down the pain and simply looked the other way as Tim diligently worked the mechanics loose from his shoulder. Rhys felt the pull of the socket coming loose and the weightlessness of the arm being taken. The relieved pressure to the mechanical socket attached to his shoulder instantly felt wonderful. Tim carefully laid the arm down onto the table behind him and then was turning back to the empty socket.

“I’m gunna clean this up and then we might want to leave the arm detached for a few days to give this time to heal. The arm is too heavy and it isn’t letting this skin patch up properly, you constantly moving it around isn’t helping.” Tim said in a matter-o-fact sort of way.

Rhys nodded slowly.

He wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of being without his arm but he would manage. Being without his arm just took him back to his younger years when having one arm had been such a struggle. It had been hard, constantly dealing with being unbalanced and uncoordinated. Of course his one limb gathered him constant teasing from classmates and that old hurt still clung to his bones. He hated being without it. His arm was something secure, something he could have to even himself out. Being without him left him so very vulnerable.

Tim seemed to notice the unsure nature plastered across Rhys’ face.

“It’s ok. It will just be for a few days, I’ll help you get around and stuff kiddo.” Tim reassured softly.

Tim gently cleaned the inside of Rhys’ arm socket, wiping out dirt and blood tediously. Then he disinfected the skin around it, gently dabbing out the wounds that had gathered infection and ooze. Rhys breathed through his nose softly. The doppelgangers fingers although large, calloused and rough, were surprisingly gentle as he worked around the young man’s mechanics. Every brush of fingers roused the hairs on Rhys arms, sending cold chills down his skin. Such small touches, and so subtle, but it was like fire to Rhys’ flesh…and he didn’t know why. Maybe because Tim was easy to talk to, and Tim was gentle. Tim listened when Rhys had something to say and Tim actually cared. Tim was something kind and warm in a world that had given Rhys nothing but hardship lately. Around the strange other man Rhys felt slightly less crazy. Things made more sense. Things seemed slightly more doable. Things seemed slightly less bleak. Tim had so much faith in Rhys. More than Rhys had in himself that was for damned sure.

“You know Jack’s right. I’m not a fighter Tim.” Rhys said suddenly and Tim’s fingers paused in their motion.

Tim scowled at him.

“Not yet you aren’t.” Tim argued shortly.

Rhys grimaced.

“What makes you think I’ll even be able to be taught? I’m just a Hyperion grunt Tim…I’m not like you.” Rhys whispered.

Tim was strong, built that way by Pandora herself. Tim tamed skags and built weapons bigger than Rhys himself. Tim was hard and smart and quick. Tim was a survivor by trade; Rhys was a survivor by luck.

Tim looked to Rhys with stern orbs.

“I know you can be taught, because I was just like you once. I haven’t always been this way. When I first set foot on Helios I was a bumbling, scared little man fresh out of surgery that I hadn’t prepared for. Jack shoved a gun in my hand and told me to be a Vault Hunter. So I was. I learned. You can too. You have too. Everybody on this planet it out to kill you and Hyperion is out to kidnap you. You have to learn, you don’t have a choice. You have to trust me Rhys. We cannot let Jack fall back into Hyperion hands.” Tim said darkly.

Rhys nodded slowly.

“Thank you Tim.” Rhys said softly.

Tim’s eyes collided with Rhys’ fiercely.

“I’m on your side Rhys. Because I was right there where you are. A long time ago…I was you. Scared and thinking I was going insane, all because of Jack’s mind games. You can’t let him win, and I’m here for you.” Tim reassured.

Rhys felt all the breath leave him, fluttering from his lungs swiftly. Tim was so close to him, so real and so vivid. He was the last bit of hope that Rhys had. Something so unexpected and so strange. Rhys reached a palm out to touch Tim’s sharp cheek and Tim did not flinch.

Before Rhys could second guess himself he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Tim’s.


	16. Things That Go Bump in the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just...well...I am so happy with this chapter I can't even. Here. Just...have it lol

Things That Go Bump in the Night

It only lasts a moment, but the small act seems to stop time in its tracks. Warm lips pressed together into a kiss that is awkward and unplanned. It is everything that a first kiss ought to be. It is strange and neither party really knows what they are doing and so for a moment they simply stare at each other with blinking, wide eyes and that only makes things worse because everybody knows you don’t kiss with your eyes open.

 

But then Tim moves, dropping whatever tool he’d had clutched in his big fingers and it clatters to the floor with the sound of metal on concrete. Then he’s cupping the sides of Rhys’ jaw and Rhys can feel the curl of warmth stir up the back of his neck at the doppelganger’s touch. Tim’s eyes slid closed and he tilts his head to the side, pushing toward Rhys’ lips with something soft and wondrous. Rhys closed his own eyes sinking into the matter of which he’d started and parts his lips slightly. Tim’s mouth tastes like stale coffee, the overly sweet kind that he had drank this morning and Rhys finds it to taste something more like _home._

 

The kiss is slow, and fluid, like something Rhys learned a long time ago but had since forgotten. But it all came back so gently and it just feels so right. It feels real. Something tangible that he can grip onto after so many days of chasing ghosts around in circles. Tim is real before him. Tim is so _real._

 

Rhys’ one sinewy arm wraps around Tim’s broad shoulders and it is awkward with a single limb but he manages. Everything is so natural then, like it was always meant to be this way and the two had always known each other. They fall together like age old pieces and everything is so simple.

 

Tim gently pulls back for breath and he looks to Rhys with searching eyes that are filled with something Rhys thought he’d never see painted across a face that looked so hauntingly familiar to Jack. It’s something shy, and embarrassed. Tim’s cheeks are slightly pink and his blue eyes are fat with stars. Rhys lets loose of a slow breath, oxygen expelling over thin lips gently, arm still looped lazily around the man invading his personal space. But then Rhys smiles and Tim does the same and it is this strange otherworldly feeling that Rhys can’t seem to put his finger on. It’s some new emotion that is a mixture of too many to really pick them all apart. It is part thanks, part attraction, part affection and part something else maybe, or part many other things. Rhys isn’t about to try and over analyze it now. He just lets it happen, and then as eyes meet, he begs for it to happen again. So it does.

 

Lips press together once more, with a little more urgency this time. Tim’s tongue parts Rhys’ lips and runs along the hollows of his mouth, exploring and lithe in every motion. Tim’s immense palms press warm sensations into Rhys’ bare hipbones, thumbs resting on the borrowed athletic shorts that Tim had given him. Tim’s clothing was too big for the lanky young man, hanging off his limbs loosely, but that was ok.

 

 They smelled like him.

 

They smelled like Timothy.

 

Tim carried an odor that was a soft mixture of gun powder and machine oil, futilely trying to be covered by some sort of cheap cologne that was most likely hard to come by on Pandora. It’s a smell that Rhys has become increasingly fond of over the weeks’ time. It has become a familiar smell. One he associates with something kind and something gentle. Tim has these calloused, big, hands that handle the most vicious of weaponry, slinging rocket launchers like pea shooters and handling shotguns like children’s toys. But when those hands touch Rhys they aren’t mean and they are soft. Those same hands tend to Rhys’ wounds with a nature that is so very mild and so very caring it hurts Rhys’ heart. Tim had been very patient with the amber haired male. He’d been patient with nursing the other man back to a stable state. He hadn’t scoffed at the broken nature in which Rhys had come to him, he’d only offered him a helping hand. The hand of a bandit that was rough and worn, but it was a kind hand all the same.

 

Those same kind hands that had brought Rhys food throughout the week, helped Rhys to stand after being bed ridden for five days, and helped to comfort Rhys through the worst of it now slid so wanting through Rhys’ amber waves. Those hands now gently touched down bare shoulders and played in the soft hairs at his nape. Those hands now welcomed Rhys in. Welcomed him into something very unexpected and yet very real. It felt like _breathing,_ even though Rhys isn’t even sure if he actually is.

But that doesn’t matter.

 

All that matters is that he’s kissing Tim and Tim is kissing back and everything feels so good and so new and so brilliant. Everything is so alive and Rhys hasn’t felt this carefree in a long time. He feels so good and he had almost forgotten what that felt like.

 

And everything is suddenly ok.

 

The kiss is left where it happened, back in the workshop, hung up on one of the hooks along the wall like some tool that needed to be returned to its proper place. They don’t really talk about it because there was not much to say. They had kissed and it had been so needed. There had been so many times Rhys wanted to that week, maybe solely driven on the fact that he was so utterly confused and Tim was the only safe place he had. Tim was gorgeous and Rhys was star struck. Tim was his savior and maybe Rhys was admittedly more than star struck. But now he had, and Tim had kissed back, but he was afraid to say anything more. It had just happened. They would leave it at that. Dinner is the same as it had been every day that week. Tim is a pretty good cook and Rhys is thankful for the nourishment. They talk like normal; they discuss the plan for the coming day like normal. Tim is going to teach Rhys how to shoot. Tim is going to teach Rhys to shoot _without_ Jack’s assistance. Rhys is a little nervous. The last time he held a gun it had been aimed on his friend and he’d nearly taken her life, so it was understandable that the word _gun_ left a salty, unwanted taste on his tongue. But Tim had smiled like he always did and said not to worry. He said not to worry because he would be right there with Rhys. _Everything would be ok._

 

And Rhys has heard that line before from similar shaped lips, but this time those lips mean it. This time the promises are not hollow. Tim means it when he says it. Because as much as he looks like Jack, Rhys now knows he isn’t and he will never be. Rhys had to remind himself multiple times a day at the beginning of the week that Tim is in fact not Jack, but now he has to do it less often. He knows Tim is so different from the tyrant rattling around up within his temples. Tim has promises that mean something behind his jewel eyes.

 

But now Tim is gone, and it is just Rhys as he lay still in the big bed of the guest bedroom. It isn’t the same bedroom he’d been staying in at the start of the week. This one is just a bedroom, and not some partial medical facility. He doesn’t need the IVs anymore and so Tim offered him this room. It’s a big room, a vast space painted in greens and browns, big billowing comforters that match perfectly. Rhys pulled the blankets up to his sharp chin and stared unblinking up at the unchanging ceiling. It was plain white, nothing really more to it. Just white.

 

Rhys wished he could find sleep as he lays there. His eyes wide and empty all he wants is sleep. But it dances out of his clutches ever so gracefully, weaving away from his fingers as he reaches for it so desperately. The room is dark all around him, shadows casting around the room like stalking things, waiting, hiding, watching him from the black spaces beneath furniture and behind doors. Creeping, crawling things breathing there in the cover of night, watching him as he tried so fruitlessly to find slumber. The sheets are suddenly too hot, they strangle around him like snakes, twisting around his form, trying to take the breath right out of his lungs. He shoves them off in slight panic, baring his body to the cool of the room, shivering as the chill hits him. He can’t see the outdoors with the old facilities underground nature. There are no windows, but he can smell rain.

The light, earthy, smell seeps through the walls and meets with his nostrils softly. Rhys curls in on himself slightly and flexes his hand out in front of him, watching human fingers shift. He feels half gone without his other limb, the phantom heaviness hanging with him like a ghost that refuses to leave.

A ghost.

That only reminds him of the unnerving silence in his head. There is nothing but _his_ thoughts. Just empty, utter, silence. Rhys thought it would be so much more relieving to have that silence back, but he knows this is only temporary and that leaves it hollow and unfulfilling. It’s too silent and his thoughts are too overwhelming to deal with. He’d been so used to sharing he doesn’t know what to do with an entire space all to himself once again. It only makes him sick to his stomach thinking about it all. Thinking about how viciously livid Jack is going to be when he comes back. He could at any moment. Timothy said himself that he didn’t know how long the jamming signal would last.

That left Rhys playing a one man Russian roulette with the phantom in his head. Not a smart game to be playing in all honesty.

There’s a sudden crack of thunder and it shakes the walls of the facility like a booming canon. Rhys clenches his eyes shut and brings his knees up into his stomach. The noise is too much like a gunshot. So loud and so real and so shattering.

Another crack rattles across the sky and Rhys flinches and whimpers.

All he can see are the bandits Jack made him kill. The thunder is just like that shotgun.

All he can see is the horrified look in Fiona’s eyes as Jack had made him point the barrel right between her eyes.

Rhys scrambles upward in bed as another growl of thunder quivers the walls and he feels the sound down in his bones, his gut twisting as his brain sees things that aren’t there. Shadows move in the corners of the room and thunder rolls and he can feel his heart in his throat. And Jack isn’t there. There are no words to keep him company, even if the words are hollow and mean. Jack isn’t there and Rhys is alone for once.

Being alone is more than he can handle. Being alone is so very frightening with all the creatures running loose in his head unbridled and free. Without Jack there is space for Rhys to finally think about all the bad and all the wrong and it comes like a great flood and he is so underprepared. He isn’t ready for it all. It is too much.

Rhys finds his feet as thunder cracks and he can feel his pulse rising. He just needs to not be alone. He can’t handle being alone. Locomotion is hard without his balance of two arms and in his panic he stumbles in the dark, knees meeting with the floor hard, good hand bracing to catch him, but failing. His mechanical socket hits the ground and it hurts. All the infection flares at the impact and Rhys moans into the dark in agony. He just lays there for a moment, half in pain half in defeat and for a moment he wonders if it is even worth getting up. But he is afraid there on the ground and he knows he has to.

He hauls himself back onto two legs and he’s in motion again, racing the shaking thunder and fumbling blindly in the dark. He hopes he is going the right way, one hand brushing along the walls and searching desperately. Finally he finds the door handle that he thinks is right and he pushes it open slowly.

“Timothy…” Rhys whispers into the dark of the bedroom his voice threatening to crack and his pupils straining in the blackness.

There’s the telltale shift of comforters and the creaking of mattress springs before a bedside lamp clicks on and the room is bathed in dim orange light.

Timothy is sitting halfway up in bed, shirtless, his face screwed up into utter confusion and his hair a disheveled mess from slumber.

“Rhys?” Timothy questions his voice rough with sleep.

Rhys just stands there, not really knowing what exactly to say or how to explain it. Just blurting ‘I’m scared of the thunder’ felt ridiculous, what was he, six?

Timothy stared for a few moments, eyebrows pushed together, the ragged scar scribed over his face shifting with his expression of confusion. Then his eyes seemed to soften as he looked at the other man. Rhys’ eyes were wide and terrified and the bags clinging to his sockets did not help his case. Timothy sighed, shook his head slightly, and patted the empty side of his large bed twice in an inviting fashion. He followed the gesture with a gentle smile and Rhys knew it was truly ok.

Rhys shuffled tiredly across the room, pushing the door closed softly behind him. Rhys allowed himself to sink down into the plush mattress, bedding dipping with his weight as he shifted and burrowed down into the blankets. Tim helped to throw the heavy comforters over the thin man, protecting him from the draft seeping through the walls of the old facility. Rhys laid his head down on the empty pillow and sighed into the fluffed material, enjoying the cool side of the pillow before it warmed with the heat from his body. Then there was the feeling of Tim’s thick arm wrapping around his slender waist. Rhys’ eyes flicked up to Tim’s but Tim didn’t flinch or pull away. He just pulled Rhys closer.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tim questioned facing Rhys as he lay next to him.

“It’s scary having my own head back.” Rhys whispered softly, adverting his eyes from Tim’s oceanic blue orbs.

Tim nodded slowly.

There was the soft touch as Tim tucked his knee between Rhys’ thighs and tangled them together further. The metal leg was cold, but it didn’t inflict too much shock to his skin. He was used to the cold touch of his own mechanical limb, and so the feeling was familiar. Rhys breathed out at the movement, breath hitching and mouth parting in a silent gasp. Big fingers ran through amber waves and Rhys half closed his eyes, relishing in such a kind touch.

“The thunder sounds like gunshots.” Rhys breathed his voice small and timid.

Tim nodded again.

He didn’t have to say anything really. There wasn’t much to say. It was enough for Rhys to just know that he was listening, that he was there, something tangible and real. Tim wasn’t some phantom in his head spouting lies to him in the name of manipulation. Rhys let loose of a slow breath and closed his eyes for a moment.

There was the press of Tim’s lips against his and slow eyes parted just slightly. Rhys fell into the kiss softly, and for a moment he simply forgot about the storm brewing outside the facility walls, and Jack, and survival and Hyperion and everything. For a moment none of that mattered and all that mattered was the here and the now and the heat of Tim’s mouth on his. The comforters are warm and suddenly the thunder is less unnerving and everything fades away.

Warm arms slide around Rhys’ form and tug him close. Closer than anything meant for comfort alone, close enough that Rhys can feel Tim’s heartbeat against his chest and Tim’s hard abdomen against his stomach. Rhys can feel the bristle of the hairs dusted across Tim’s chest and it is more masculine and attractive than Rhys could have imagined. He’s so real before him, Rhys’ one hand splaying across Tim’s swollen chest, hard with all the trials of Pandora, uneven spaces where scars interrupted perfect suntanned skin. Rhys panted into Tim’s personal space, their breath hot and pleasant against each other.

Rhys looked down to Tim as he pushed the comforters back, exposing the flesh that he so eagerly touched. Old scars ran like lightening down the doppelganger’s broad chest, scrawled mean and impressive over soft skin.

Rhys touched a particularly large, intimidated scar scribed over Tim’s left peck and Tim looked at him with amused eyes.

“Thresher.” Tim whispered kissing Rhys’ jaw.

Rhys’ hands moved its wandering down to another set of scars running over the other man’s abdomen.

“Bullymong.” Tim huffed almost breathlessly.

Rhys found a small circular wound presented so perfectly on Tim’s collarbone.

“Bullet.” Tim husked.

Rhys reached up to Timothy’s face, curious fingers touching the deep indention of the scar over his perfect, angular face.

“A monster worse than all of those combined.” Timothy whispered and there was sadness lacing through his words like ribbon.

Rhys leaned forward and kissed the scar with soft, barely parted lips, warmth coming to meet with rough scar tissue needy and pure. Timothy suddenly reached up and pulled Rhys’ hand away from the scar, shame curling through his expression like worms.

“It’s so hideous…” Timothy breathed through grit teeth.

Then it was Rhys’ turn to shake his head slowly.

“No. It’s gorgeous.” Rhys whispered, eyes flickering in the low lamplight as he captured Tim’s gaze and held it for maybe a moment too long.

In a split second Tim was kissing Rhys once more, this time harder, this time deeper and his body moved to press the young man down into the mattress. Tim loomed over Rhys as Rhys turned to splay onto his back, allowing the doppelganger to cage him into the bedding with all legs and arms. Rhys arches his neck backward as Tim’s lips leave his mouth and find his jaw, pampering slow kisses down the sharp of his chin. Rhys gasps when thick fingers ghost along the jut of his ribs and tenderly press into his hipbone, thumbing over it slowly.

Tim pauses momentarily, eyes half lidded as they settled on Rhys face. Rhys’ cheeks are already airbrushed with light color, pink and vibrant and lust worthy.

“I-Is this ok?” Tim whispers hesitantly.

“Y-yeah.” Rhys stutters in response, mind having trouble bringing forth words as Tim hovers over him.

Rhys gently looped his one arm around Timothy’s heavy neck, fingers pressed over taught skin, feeling as Tim’s muscles rotated. He was so toned, made that way by the hellish Planet that he called home. Made that way because he’d had no other choice. Pandora was a rough mother. She was not kind to her children. But she was the only one he had. So this was how he had to be. He had to be hard, he had to be fast, he had to be ruthless. Yet, even with all of those qualities swarming over his being…Tim somehow managed to still remain so very tender in nature. He touched Rhys softly with enthralled fingers that were slow and explorative as he pressed against Rhys’ form. His palm was warm as it slid up his torso and cupped his jaw, tilting Rhys’ head back as his mouth found the thrum of the amber haired man’s pulse.

“Why did you kiss me earlier?” Tim whispered suddenly.

Rhys was shaken out of his languid state by the pointed question.

“B-Because…it…it just felt right…” Rhys said tripping over his words feebly.

“Because you saved me, and you have opened up your life to me…and you keep me from him…you keep him at bay and I can’t stop thinking about you and that is all I could think about all week. You’re so kind and you are so gentle to me and I just…I just want you so badly. I _need_ you.” Rhys whispered looking to Tim with utterly genuine eyes.

 

Maybe it was misplaced infatuation on Rhys’ part. Maybe it was ridiculous and stupid. But he had this burning deep down beneath his skin that he had not felt in a very long time. This burning want for another human being, this desire to simply want and be wanted back. Tim was safe and warm and Rhys just….wanted.

“It isn’t because I look like him right? That isn’t why…why you want me…is it?” Timothy questioned then.

“No. No Tim. That isn’t why. Don’t ever ask me that again. You know how I feel about him…” Rhys said almost in offense but he knew it was a valid question.

“Ok. I won’t ask again. I’m sorry for asking now…but I just…had to…the only time anybody has ever found me attractive is after I’d had the surgery. I was only ever given attention because I looked like…him.” Timothy whispered his mouth down turning and eyes sparkling with old hurt.

Rhys reached up and slid his palm down the sharp of Timothy’s cheekbone, looking up at him with glistening mismatched orbs.

“No. I…I want you because you are kind…and you gave me a second chance…you are gentle and that is what pulls me to you.” Rhys said pushing upward to lay a tender kiss on Tim’s thin lips.

Timothy smiled against Rhys’ lips.

“You know he thinks you belong to him…” Timothy whispered.

“I know…but he isn’t here right now…” Rhys countered moving against Timothy lazily, legs gently wrapping around Tim’s hips.

“I know. But you don’t belong to him. You’re too good for him Rhys…” Timothy said gently tucking a tuft of Rhys’ hair behind his ear.

“I don’t want to talk about him anymore.” Rhys stated suddenly and Tim nodded in understanding.

“Ok.” Tim said leaning down to lay a soft kiss to the left of Rhys’ port gathering a soft gasp from the young man’s lips.

“Do you want to…?” Timothy asked awkwardly.

Rhys snorted and laughed a little at the timid question. That was something that he just liked so much about the strange man on top of him. He was so _human._

“Y-Yeah I do.” Rhys chuckled lightly.

“But uh…I’ve never…I’ve never really uh…done this…before.” Rhys admitted timidly, feeling himself go red from the roots of his hair down to his curled toes.

Timothy smiled down at the young man and kissed across the side of his temple.

“You’ve never done any of this?” Timothy asked.

“Well I mean I’ve y’know been with men before…I’ve done oral, and gotten it…just never…all the way…god this is fucking embarrassing…” Rhys groaned in frustration.

Timothy just laughed in response and kissed the side of Rhys’ mouth.

“No it isn’t. Really it’s pretty cute kiddo. I’ll lead…you just follow and do what feels natural. I’ll be gentle I promise.” Tim assured grinning.

“O-Ok…and could…could you not say that? Please…it’s…it’s too weird.” Rhys managed breathlessly, cringing a little.

“Huh? Say what?” Tim asked suddenly seemingly concerned as he backtracked over what he’d said previously.

“Kiddo. Don’t call me that…it’s…uncomfortable…” Rhys said quietly.

Timothy’s face dropped a little and he pushed his eyebrows together in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try really hard not to say it. It just slips out sometimes…” Timothy whispered solemnly.

“It’s ok.” Rhys said leaning forward to kiss against Tim’s collarbone.

“Well let me try again, it’s pretty cute _Rhys._ Better?” Timothy tried grinning awkwardly.

“Better.” Rhys agreed smiling widely from beneath the doppelganger.

Timothy pressed a frantic kiss into Rhys’ lips and they come together in a flurry of want that overflows over both of them. Two sets of lips coming together to mold into one, meshing together so eagerly, tongues playing against one another’s, carefree and soft. Tim moved against Rhys, his hips rolling slightly and Rhys could _feel_ him beneath his grey boxer briefs. Rhys had to quickly decide between curling his fingers in Timothy’s hair, or letting his fingers wander down to curl around something _else._ He internally wished he had both arms so he didn’t have to choose between one or the other, but he did what he could with what he had.

Wandering fingers trace circles down Timothy’s heaving torso only to pause at the hem of his boxers and play for a moment. Lithe digits gently slid farther, not satisfied with just playing, but wanting to touch, wanting to _feel._ Rhys palmed along the taught line of Timothy’s erection, tugging a low groan right up from the doppelganger’s lungs. Rhys purred into Tim’s neck, eyes closing and relishing in the sound as it rumbled up from his partner’s chest. It is a deep, heavy sound that leaves a pleasant tingle in the depths of Rhys’ ears. Rhys parts his lips and draws his tongue along the pulse thrumming heavy against Tim’s throat, fingers becoming braver as they traced up the hard line of his partner’s want. Rhys dragged his thumb and forefinger along the protrusion, stopping to just slightly squeeze at his head, feeling a slight damp spot as fluid soaked through the soft material of his boxers. Tim seemed to weaken at the touch, eyes falling, mouth coming open in a breathless oval.

With that Timothy leaned back onto his knees, working to clumsily tug his underwear over his strong hips. Rhys could only watch with sparkling eyes as Timothy’s erection came free standing proud and thick amongst dark curls of brunette hair. Tim was of formidable size, just above average length, but with a breadth that made Rhys’ toes curl.

Tim leaned down, lips pressing against the soft of Rhys’ stomach, lips warm and wet against pale flesh. Rhys arched into the touch, giggling a little when Tim hit a spot that was ticklish and jerking his leg up just slightly. Tim smiled against his skin and moved down toward his borrowed pair of black boxers that were far too big for his slender hips. Timothy gently pressed his lips against the outline of Rhys’ cock through the material and Rhys let loose of a gorgeous noise that sent chills down the doppelganger’s spine.

The kid moved like something just made for this, lithe and lanky, limbs thin and slender, but ever so perfect. Tim gently scraped his teeth over the hard line of his partner’s clothed dick and Rhys bowed up off the bed, offering himself into the touch shamelessly.

Between the two of them it was hard to tell who was more eager about the situation. Both looked to one another with star glittering eyes and panting, needing breaths. Tim’s big fingers curled around the hem of Rhys’ boxers and he slid the baggy things down over the other man’s thin thighs and bony knees. Tim’s rough, immense fingers curled gently around Rhys’ livid erection, stroking up fluidly, dragging a pitiful noise right from the young man’s lungs. Tim seemed to melt into the sound, humming lightly as stroked upward, coaxing a fat bead of pre-cum up out of Rhys’ prick. Tim gently spread the clear fluid out over Rhys’ rosy head gathering a gasp and a lift of thin hips from his gorgeous partner.

Tim’s eyes flickered with interest as they flicked up Rhys’ form. Rhys was sprawled across the bed like some lazy cat soaking up the afternoon sun, his arm thrown carelessly over his head, fingers curling in his hair softly. Tim crooned down, settling between Rhys’ open knees and nosed at the side of his cock, smiling all the while as Rhys gasped and buried his bottom lip between his pretty teeth. Tim was pretty sure the kid was holding his breath, waiting, waiting for Tim to make the move he ever so wanted. And finally, _finally_ he did. Timothy’s tongue darted from between his lips and licked a long, slow stripe up Rhys’ underside. Rhys made an utterly pitiful noise and his eyes flew open, soaking in the sight of the handsome man between his legs. Tim met eyes with his for a moment, a playful grin creeping over his thin lips as he ogled Rhys teasingly. Tim encased his plump pillows around Rhys’ swollen head.

“Ah…ahh AH T-Timothy!!” Rhys near pleaded and Tim’s name felt so good on his tongue.

The syllables slid over his lips like milk chocolate and it left a warm, pleasant taste in his mouth. It wasn’t like Jack’s name. Jack’s name was all salt and regret. Jack’s name left a burn that just wouldn’t ease. Jack’s name was like a filthy curse word that should never come across a decent human being’s tongue. Timothy’s name left a smarting tingle, like something overly sweet and wonderful. Tim’s name was fresh coffee in the morning laced with just enough sugar and creamer. Tim’s name was inviting, like the promise of home.

Tim descended down Rhys’ shaft, the hard anatomy flexing against his lips, pulsating gently as Tim’s tongue danced circles underneath his head. Tim had Rhys melting into his fingers, panting and arching, pumping up into the doppelganger’s mouth slightly. Tim’s digits twisted around his base, fist and mouth working together in one well choreographed dance. Tim was all tongue and lips, just barely grazing his teeth over Rhys’ head before plunging back down. He fingers were slick as he let his saliva lull down Rhys’ length, providing just the right friction in just the right ways.

Tim’s affections slowly made their way down to Rhys’ base, descending to his heavy sack, lapping and suckling accordingly. Rhys shifted and gnashed his teeth together, fingers curling in the pillow, the top of his skull pressed flush to the headboard.

Tim leaned back slowly, a small amount of saliva drawling down over his chin and he offered Rhys a shy grin. Rhys’ eyes fluttered open just barely as Tim pressed against him once more, body so much bigger and stronger than his own. Rhys leaned up lazily and pressed his mouth to Tim’s, sighing and panting against his warm lips as Tim rutted dryly against him.

Tim pried himself from the frantic kissing to scramble across the bed to the table beside it. Fumbling fingers sifted through too much junk and finally came away with a half empty bottle of lubricant.

Tim settled back between Rhys’ legs and looked to the young man with bright eyes. He gently lathered the clear liquid over his first and second fingers then soothed the cold solution around Rhys’ tight ring of muscle. Rhys hissed and stiffened against the cool contact and Tim looked to him in concern.

“You ok?” Tim asked his voice strained and panting.

“Y-Yeah, it’s just cold.” Rhys breathed chuckling softly.

Tim nodded and gently pressed his index finger into Rhys’ entrance, gaining a louder hiss and a small groan from the younger man. Tim added another finger careful not to go too fast and diligently stretched the young man out, thrusting thick digits into him shallowly. Rhys bucked up lithely, boring down onto his partner’s fingers, body greedy and hungry for more. Timothy leaned forward and pampered kisses along Rhys’ collar as he curled his digits into the amber haired man’s body, searching for his internal weakness softly. A brush of fingers in just the right spot had Rhys coming up off the mattress a loud moan forcing up out of his lips, echoing off the walls in unison with a crack of shaking thunder.

Fingers were replaced with the gentle, blunt feeling of Tim’s head pressed against his tightness. A roll of hips and both men moaned in unison, a slight sting running feverishly up through Rhys’ spine in response to the stretch.

Tim paused, just his head past the ring of muscle and breathed out shakily into the crook of Rhys’ neck. Rhys squirmed and clawed his fingers into Tim’s bicep in response to the ache throbbing through his lower body.

“Still ok?” Tim husked his voice deep and rough with arousal.

Rhys nodded quickly, eyes still squeezed shut, mouth curved up in a slight grimace.

“Y-Yeah…i-it’s just… _big…”_ Rhys whispered bending his neck slightly, fingernails digging into Tim’s suntanned skin.

Tim half snorted half laughed and grinned widely down at his partner. Rhys opened one eye to look at Tim and cocked a thin smile through his concentrating expression.

“What!? Isn’t that like tradition to say stuff like that? I dunno I’ve never done this before gimme a break!” Rhys chuckled through his teeth.

“I mean well, thanks.” Tim laughed smiling brightly as he allowed Rhys to adjust.

Timothy’s lips crashed into Rhys’ as he pushed in a little farther, then pulled out, repeating the motion nice and slow until he buried himself to the hilt in the young man’s ass. Rhys cried out, the sound a mixture between slight pain and pleasure and everything within him was so warm. The chill of the room no longer nipped at his exposed flesh, warded away by the heat radiating between him and the other man.

“Ohhh…fuck…” Tim groaned as he gently rolled his hips forward.

The young man was tight and slick around him, squeezing pleasantly and Timothy shuddered around the feeling.

“S-Shit you’re tight…I-I dunno how long I’m gunna be able to last…” Tim admitted in slight embarrassment.

In his defense, it had been a long time since he’d been intimate with anybody other than his own hand.

“I-it’s ok…I-I don’t think I’m going to be able to either…f-fuck this feels good.” Rhys panted heavily.

“Y-Yeah…I just..it’s been…a while since I’ve done this…with anybody…” Tim agreed as he gently found a pace and began to rhythmically thrust into the lanky man beneath him.

Rhys wrapped his thin ankles around Tim’s hips and moaned out lowly the feeling of Tim filling him so gloriously wrapped around him like silk. So this is what he’d been missing. This was fucking _wonderful._ It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to, it was just that climbing the competitive ladder of Hyperion had left him with little time to do so. He didn’t have time for relationships and stuff like that. But now, feeling Tim all around him, pushing into him deep and hard, jarring him backward into the bed, now he almost regretted that.

Timothy’s hips worked faster, fueled by a building orgasm deep in his gut, powerful thighs working, palms touching every inch of Rhys they could get hold of.

“Rhys, oh fuck Rhyssss…ah…ah..AHH!!” Timothy groaned loudly and his voice was all honey and velvet, so soft on Rhys’ senses.

Rhys moved and moaned into the motion from the other party, lost in a sea of ecstasy as Timothy rutted into him. One of Tim’s frantic palms wrapped around Rhys’ abandoned cock and Rhys let loose of an absolutely pitiful sound that made Tim go weak at the knees. Rhys lurched forward as Tim lowered his head and two only succeeded in bumping foreheads, both hissing at the contact.

“Fuck sorry.” Timothy said rubbing his head slightly.

“I’m ok.” Rhys chuckled awkwardly.

Smiles flowed between them and light chuckles followed, both getting lost in each other once more. The mattress creaked beneath Tim’s movements, a cadenced groan of springs that rung in Rhys’ ears.

“Y-You’re so handsome…” Rhys breathed into Tim’s neck as the doppelganger stroked up his hard flesh gracefully, taking careful care to roll his fingers over his dripping head.

“A-And you’re so fucking gorgeous…” Tim panted back and Rhys prickled at the compliment, allowing it to wash heavy over him.

It had been a long time since he’d had such unrestrained compliments laid on him. It had been such a long time since he’d been so wrapped up in pleasure. So he let it take him, like a moth to a flame he went so willingly into Tim’s arms.

Tim’s eyebrows pushed together in a look of utter concentration as he thrust into Rhys harder, pace sloppy and jerky as he spiraled downward toward his much needed finish. Rhys smiled into his lips in a way that was utterly carefree and pleased. Everything within him was hot and fluid and so good. Everything was vibrant and Rhys had never felt so alive.

Rhys felt his own finish creeping down his thighs and settling heavy in his groin. Rhys was pretty sure he moaned out a mixture of Timothy’s name and some colorful words he only used when the time called for it, apparently this being one of those times and then he was coming between Tim’s fingers. Rhys shivered and groaned beneath the solid weight thrusting into him, eyes shut tight and body convulsing in unbridled pleasure. Warm twists of orgasm curled down his torso, cock pulsating as he spent himself up over his own stomach uselessly. Rhys could have sworn he’d seen stars as everything crashed down on him in one big frantic blur.

Tim made a low groan that vibrated up through his chest, yanked from him as his own orgasm rushed over him ruthlessly. Rhys shuddered at the feeling of Tim going stiffer within him, then releasing all he had to give, the warm, wet sensation flooding into Rhys’ body. Rhys groaned lowly, fingers burying in messy brown locks and Tim pressed his forehead into the young man’s, hips twitching slowly as he came, cock flexing with each expulsion until he had nothing left. Tim looked utterly wrecked as he struggled on shaking elbows, able to do nothing but pant into his young partner. Rhys nuzzled into Tim’s neck, boneless and absolutely spent, his body feeling like a worn rubber band. So much tension seemed to wash right off him as he laid there silent, no sound between them but rough, strained breaths. Finally Tim’s eyes came open and he leaned back slowly, palms sliding over rustled sheets tiredly.

“Sorry that was really quick…” Tim apologized half smiling sheepishly.

Rhys rubbed his knee against Tim’s toned hip, smiling stupidly as he brushed his wild sex disheveled hair out of his face.

“Naw…it was so good…fuck…that was so so good.” Rhys breathed almost in disbelief, lost in post orgasm bliss, letting it take him over like a heavy drug.

Tim slowly eased his softening cock from Rhys’ entrance getting a hiss and a jolt from the languid young man in response. Rhys pulsed around air, red and lucid, some of Tim’s finish leaking out onto the bed. Rhys grimaced at the uncomfortable wet sensation and Tim chuckled lightly. The doppelganger hefted himself off the bed to fetch some towels and when he returned he gently dabbed Rhys clean, his eyes full of something Rhys could only describe as absolute adoration.

Tim collapsed onto the bed heavy and spent, tugging the blankets back over the two of them. Rhys sighed as he looked over Tim’s sleepy expression, the other man’s features relaxed and pleased. Rhys ran his fingers over the doppelgangers massive tattoo twisting up his right arm and Tim smiled at him softly.

“So it was good huh?” Timothy asked kissing Rhys several times, pulling the young man closer, easing him into a knot of arms and legs.

“Y-Yeah…we should do that again, you know, for good measure.” Rhys whispered grinning deviously.

“That’s a good idea. Just…to make sure we did it right you know?” Timothy teased lightly.

“Exactly.” Rhys giggled curling into Tim’s warmth sleepily.

A crack of thunder shuddered the walls and Rhys jumped, eyes widening and teeth gritting together hard. Tim frowned at the jumpy young man and soothed a big palm across his jutting spine, feeling every small protrusion of bone.

“I changed my mind about taking you to the shooting range tomorrow.” Timothy whispered against Rhys’ chin, his expression contorting into a worry.

Rhys’ eyes flicked up to Tim’s pretty pupils and he frowned in shame.

“Sorry.” Rhys whispered feeling smaller and smaller against his partner.

Tim was tough as leather, bandit through and through and Rhys was here falling apart at even the mention of having to handle a weapon.

Tim swept a slow hand through Rhys’ amber locks and shook his head.

“Don’t be sorry. I just, well…maybe I pushed it a little. You aren’t ready just yet. We’ll do something more fun tomorrow.” Tim reassured softly.

“More sex?” Rhys questioned trying to lighten the mood a little.

Tim chortled and grinned widely.

“Well yeah, but also I’m gunna introduce you to my girls tomorrow.” Tim said waggling his eyebrows playfully.

Rhys lifted a thin eyebrow at his bed partner.

“Your girls? Well...I uh…didn’t really take you for a ladies’ man…” Rhys teased grinning wryly.

“My skags smartass. We’re gunna go skag riding tomorrow.” Timothy whispered smiling like some proud papa.

 

 

 


	17. A Home No Longer Haunted

The Home No Longer Haunted

Rhys swallowed thickly as he followed closely behind the brunette haired man ahead of him. Tim seemed so comfortable amongst the great enclosure, standing so causally, not a shred of fear clinging to his form.

Timothy put his fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly, the sound echoing out through the underground enclosure loudly. Rhys winced and clung to Tim cautiously.

Timothy looked backward at the amber haired male and smiled brightly, his scar pulling tight with the motion. He was so confident, Rhys thought to himself smiling back shyly. He was absolutely everything that Rhys wasn’t. Tim was strong and he was as wild as the surface of Pandora. Full of tricks and knowledge, so wise and vicious.

A great roar echoes out through the space and Rhys cringes in fear.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s ok.” Tim reassures as the thud of heavy feet begins to creep closer.

That’s when Rhys sees them.

Three massive Alpha skags.

The big creatures flock to Tim like ants to a spilled meal, the big animals quivering their massive jaws affectionately. Tim smiles and gently pats the big creatures fondly, each one pushing for the brunette man’s undivided attention stubbornly. The biggest of the three noses its way into Timothy’s face and licks a long stripe up the side of his face, the doppelganger laughing the entire time. Rhys watches with enthralled eyes. He’d never seen the mean creatures act like anything but absolute _monsters._ To watch Tim fawn over them and the big beasts give nothing but love back, it was some otherworldly thing.

Tim looks back to Rhys’ hesitant form and offers him that gorgeous, white smile that he always does.

“C’mere, they won’t bite.” Tim assures offering Rhys his palm.

Rhys takes it and slowly huddles next to Tim curiously.

“This one’s Mali, here’s Atlas, and of course Dahl. Thought weapon names were appropriate.” Tim chuckles patting each respected animal.

The smallest of the group, Atlas pushed her muzzle up beneath Rhys’ palm and the young man held his breath hesitantly.

“Uh…hey…there…” Rhys whispered softly.

The creature gurgled and nuzzled against Rhys’ chest giddily.

Tim smiled widely at the interaction between the two.

“See, she likes you.” Tim chuckled.

Rhys smiled in response.

“Well…guess you aren’t as bad as I thought huh?” Rhys said smiling and gathering the courage to gently stroke down the beasts head.

She looked to Rhys with beady, intelligent eyes and chirped fondly.

**Nine Months Later:**

The amber haired young man sat idle on the back of the massive skag, rifle in hand and coat wrapped around his shoulders, hood propped up over his face to keep the murderous sun from his eyes. He looked out over the landscape, searching the sun scorched earth for any kind of movement. But there was none to be had, just a great, wide landscape filled with sand and forgotten memories. The sun was low in the sky, just starting to splay colors out over the great sky brilliantly. He grunted and gently pulled on the reins of the large animal, urging her to turn and head back over the dunes at an easy pace.

Rhys’ eyes focused on the form at the bottom of the large hill and a small smile broke out over his face as he approached the other rider. Tim pulled his hood back with a smile and reloaded his SMG. Rhys could feel his heart flutter at the small action from his counterpart and he flushed just slightly, tucking his own weapon into the holster on his back.

“Any movement out that way babe?” Tim asked as Rhys halted his skag just next to Tim’s.

Rhys shook his head and sighed.

“Not a thing. Seems like the bandits took the day off or something.” Rhys said shrugging.

Tim nodded.

“Whaddya say we turn in early pumpkin, I’ll make dinner.” Tim chuckled leaning over from his saddle to peck Rhys on the cheek.

Rhys flushed brighter and looked away shyly.

Tim slapped the leather reins against his skag’s neck and the beast was off, kicking dust in its wake. Rhys stayed still for a moment, watching the other man with fond eyes. Most days it was hard to believe that the other man was real. He felt like some sort of illusion. Some fantastic dream that would have an end at some point. At any moment Rhys would just wake up and he would be gone…but that hadn’t happened. Tim was real. So very real.

Tim was sturdy, a strong entity that was there to hold Rhys up when he’d been so very broken. When Rhys was nearly dead, he’d plucked him from the clutches of the desert and he’d brought him back to the living. Tim was his silver lining and so much more. Tim had given him shelter, given him nourishment, given him knowledge.

Rhys hadn’t been good at handling weapons in the beginning, in fact he’d been so bad it had taken him nearly a week just to even get close to hitting the actual target. But Tim was patient and Tim had urged him to keep trying. So Rhys had. Day after day Tim had worked with him, pressed him a little farther, a little harder.

So Rhys learned.

He learned to survive, just as Tim had so very long ago. Except this time was so much different, this time Tim had someone else, someone to lean on, someone to… _love._

The first time Tim had told Rhys he loved him was nearly four months after living together and learning together. Rhys remembered it like yesterday. The two of them curled in warm sheets after a long day of training Rhys, arms tangled together and hearts beating as one. Tim had whispered it in Rhys’ ear and Rhys had whispered it right back.

It was a hard love, the kind you fall into unexpectedly. The kind that comes on so strong and vibrant that nothing else matters in that moment. The kind that leaves nothing but warm tingles in its wake. The kind that makes the world make sense. The kind that lights up all the dark spaces and chases away shadows.

All the dark parts had faded into the background in the wake of the new love. And Rhys would have it no other way.

Rhys sighed and urged his own skag onward, the dusty landscape whipping by him as the animal picked up speed. The two men entered through the massive back bay of the facility and Rhys gently dismounted his skag, shaking the sand out of his hair and patting the big animal. Rhys came around to take off her saddle and placed it in its spot just next to the door, along with the rest of her gear. Tim plunked his own saddle down on its holder next to Rhys’ and Rhys smiled at him.

“I need a shower. I feel disgusting.” Rhys chuckled lightly.

“Whew I second that one kiddo. I’ve got sand in places you don’t even wanna know.” Tim teased wryly.

Rhys chuckled and nodded.

“Gross Tim.” Rhys giggled leading his skag toward the enclosure and opening up the big glass doors.

With the skags put back in their enclosure and fed for the night the two men retired into the living quarters of the home.

Tim shut their bedroom door with a small click and big hands were helping to peel Rhys’ cloak off of him, following up with his shirt. Rhys looked down over his sinewy form, much more defined than months previous, small swells of muscles poking from his skinny abdomen. He was covered in bruises and cuts from one battle or the next, his soft skin having gathered plenty of scars, proof of his time spent on Pandora.

Timothy gently brushed his fingers over the massive bruise blossoming over his partner’s thin hip and frowned. Its source had taken place several days ago, when Rhys had been smacked with a makeshift bat, wielded by a particularly ornery psycho.

“How’s that feeling, still looks kinda nasty…” Tim whispered looking to Rhys in concern.

Rhys smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh it’s fine Tim stop worrying.” Rhys snorted as he undid his belt slowly and shoved his pants down around his ankles, stepping out of the dirty material gracefully.

Tim watched slyly as Rhys sauntered off to the bathroom, his naked ass on full display for the brunette haired man. Rhys paused in the doorway, throwing Tim a sultry expression as he leaned on the frame.

“You coming big boy?” Rhys purred before entering the bathroom and turning on the water.

Tim groaned and tore out of his clothing hurriedly, desperate to follow after the lanky man. Tim slid into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, eyes soaking in the scene as Rhys tilted his head a back beneath the steady shower stream and threw an inviting glance at the other man. Tim opened the glass door and invited himself into the warmth of the shower, sighing as the water hit his aching muscles.

Immediately Rhys hung his long arms over the doppelgangers thick shoulders, looking to him with utterly playful eyes, soaking in his every aspect. Love was such a strange thing, the way it came so suddenly, the way it stayed so infinitely. It invited itself in and then suddenly became a regular guest. The love between the two men was new and so very fresh, but it was so gorgeous as it blossomed between them.

Rhys looked to Tim with glittering eyes, reaching up to softly stroke his fingers through his partner’s wet locks.

“I wish you would stop worrying about me so much babe.” Rhys said suddenly.

Tim frowned.

“I always worry. You know that. I just don’t want anything to happen to you. What we do is dangerous…” Tim began his entire speech but Rhys cut him off promptly with a kiss to his thin lips.

Tim grunted against the advancement and finally allowed his eyes to slide closed as he sunk into the action wantonly. Rhys' mouth molded into his perfectly, thin fingers curling in dark brown locks as bodies became flush and heat rose between the two partners wildly.

Tim pressed Rhys’ back into the tile hard, hands tilting the young man’s chin back gently as the kiss escalated quickly. Rhys felt warmth spread out through his body as Tim pushed against him, his body hard and rough, carved and cut by all the wilds of Pandora. He was strong against Rhys, beating the breath right out of his lungs and causing him to struggle for oxygen.

Rhys bit Tim’s lip softly and the bigger man groaned against him, the sound rumbling up from the thick of his chest vibrantly.

“ _Timothy…”_ Rhys moaned as he closed his eyes and allowed Tim to drag his tongue over the curve of the young man’s neck.

Tim smiled against the taught flesh of his throat.

“That’s it baby…” Tim snarled as he gently captured the flesh of Rhys’ collarbone between his teeth.

Rhys melted into the other’s advances, bowing off the wall lithely, his body all grace and need. Tim’s fingers wandered his body readily, touching and grasping as things deteriorated into utter primal want.

Tim paused for a moment, panting against Rhys, eyes half lidded and dazed.

“No sign of him today either?” Tim said suddenly and Rhys felt his heart drop.

He knew it was a valid question. He knew this…but it never made it any easier. Rhys dropped his gaze and a look of guilt instantly washed over Tim’s slender features.

“I’m sorry Rhys…I shouldn’t have asked …” Tim whispered.

Rhys chewed his lip slowly.

“Nothing today either. Just like all the other days. Because he’s gone Tim…I wish you would just accept that.” Rhys replied sadly.

Tim frowned and tucked a strand of amber locks behind Rhys’ ear.

“We don’t know that Rhys.” Tim sighed.

“Why can’t you just for once admit that maybe this whole thing can have a happy ending? That Jack isn’t coming back? That he really is gone?” Rhys hissed closing his eyes angrily.

Tim flinched at the mention of his name and gritted his teeth together.

“Because Rhys, that procedure was only supposed to block his signal for a small window of time…not erase him completely…I know it’s possible I just want to be wary…” Tim breathed.

Rhys frowned and let his arms drop from his counterpart, seeing to curl in on himself slightly, moving away from Tim.

“I just want to believe that he really can be gone…but you constantly remind me that this could all be too good to be true. It’s been nine months Tim, when are you going to stop? Never? Years from now you’ll still be asking me?” Rhys snarled folding his arms and down casting his eyes.

Tim pushed his eyebrows together and gently reached out to touch Rhys’ shoulder.

“Rhys I’m sorry…” Tim whispered softly.

Rhys jerked away from the other man’s touch and shook his head.

“I know you’re still afraid of me. I know you stay up after I fall asleep because you’re afraid as soon as I drift off he’s going to come back. I know any time I make a sudden movement you tense up, even when were fucking Tim for god’s sake! I’m not stupid!” Rhys snapped.

Tim looked on with hurt eyes.

“Rhys I didn’t mean it that way…” Tim whispered.

Rhys turned his back to the brunette haired man, washed his body quickly and angrily stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the counter in haste.

“I just want to be normal again Tim. I want you to treat me like I’m normal! Is that too much to fucking ask!?” Rhys yelled before exiting the room and slamming the door shut behind him.

Tim stood in the shower with a grim look cast over his features. He knew Rhys wanted to just think Jack was gone for good, by some fluke accident the process had completely wiped Jack from Rhys’ system…but Tim just couldn’t seem to let it be that easy.

Things with Jack were never that simple.

A part of him just knew it wouldn’t be so simple…he wanted to believe it. God he did.

He wanted to believe it with all his heart and soul.

He loved Rhys, he wanted him to finally be safe. He wanted to keep him safe.

But he never dared leave his guard down…not with everything they had been through.

When Tim finally washes off and exits the bathroom, he finds Rhys curled up in bed, tucked beneath layers of comforters and a sour expression curled across his face. Tim frowned down at his angry partner and gently eased himself onto the bed next to Rhys. The bed dipped with the bigger man’s weight and Rhys grumbled at the motion.

“Rhys…baby…I didn’t mean to upset you.” Tim tried softly.

Rhys said nothing, simply continued to lay curled up on the mattress a dark expression splayed across his cheeks. Tim outreached a gentle hand and ran it down Rhys’ shoulder, the touch soft and apologetic. Rhys flinched beneath the gesture and Tim sighed.

“I’m not…I’m not some monster anymore…I just want you to stop being afraid of me…” Rhys whispered, tears threatening the corners of his eyes.

Tim slowly slipped into bed next to his young partner and Rhys allowed the brunette to curl his thick arms around his slender form.

“I’m sorry.” Tim whispered into the nape of Rhys’ neck.

Rhys gritted his teeth together and shut his eyes tightly. He didn’t want his own lover to fear him. He just wanted to feel ok again, he just wanted to be _free again._

The two of them laid there, curled in thoughts, regrets and emotions. In times like this it almost seemed better to leave everything in utter silence…and so they did. Tim stroked Rhys' hair and allowed his breath to tickle the soft hairs on the back of Rhys’ neck. Tim kissed him slowly, light pecks to his skin that left behind warmth and fire. Rhys didn’t know how to feel... angry, sad, tired. A little of everything possibly.

But the silence was good.

And the sleep was better.

 


End file.
